When He Comes Home
by nineaah
Summary: Ten years ago, Mana Campbell's only son was killed by the Black Order. Now, Allen is plagued with strange dreams and odd feelings—why do the Noah look familiar to him? Why can he control the Ark? Matters get worse when he's kidnapped by the Noah, none of which know the truth: Allen Walker is really Allen Campbell, the Millennium Earl's child. AU, noah-centric & devoted uncle neah
1. Chapter 1

**When He Comes Home: Chapter One**

* * *

The baby, with his tiny nose and wispy red hair and chubby cheeks, did not understand much.

He was nearing a month old. At this period of time in the baby's life, his daily activities consisted of sleeping, eating, and passing occasional gas. He didn't cry very often. It was a good thing; the woman who had borne him abhorred his cries. She abhorred him. Though the baby did not know it yet, he had an abnormal arm that disgusted his mother. This arm would bring him immeasurable hardship in the future years of his life.

The baby did not understand much. He slept on, not waking up when he was shoved into a man's arms, not even when his mother's heated words grew in volume and cruelty so that they drew the attention of passerby around the trio.

He did not understand that he was an accident.

The baby's father hadn't known about the child until two days ago, when he received a letter from the mother asking him to take the infant. At the moment, the father's world was a nervous wreck, while the mother was cruelly attacking both him and his offspring.

"The thing is yours," the woman hissed. "I want nothing to do with it."

"I— M-mine?" the man said, his voice trailing off in a whisper as he stared down at the little bundle of blankets in his arms. He'd received her letter explaining the situation: that through their single meeting one night, ten months ago, she had fallen pregnant with his child. It was one thing to read the words. It was another to be faced with the baby.

"You do not want him?" he said, the first question coming to his mind.

"It's unnatural. His arm." Another shudder. "He is yours. I'll have nothing to do with it."

The baby did not understand much. He did not understand that though the shade of his hair was from his mother, he would grow up to look very much like the man currently holding him. They would have the same blue eyes, the same smile.

He was asleep. The baby didn't understand much.

* * *

In the course of two days, Mana D. Campbell's life had been flipped upside down. He hadn't ever planned to revisit the city he stood in, for multiple reasons (one of which was the woman he had a moment of weakness with). He'd thought he could leave the place behind with no lasting consequences, but as fate would have it, a child had resulted from their brief coupling.

Her cruel words still echoed in his mind. "I do not want it."

The streets were filled with pedestrians, who weaved around horse-drawn carts and the occasional carriage. The background noise was a cacophony of voices. Minutes after she'd left him standing there, holding the baby, Mana hadn't moved. The throngs continued to move and flow around him. No one noticed the overwhelming turmoil the poor man felt.

The full meaning of her words was still coming slow to Mana. I accidentally got a woman pregnant. She had a baby. I'm a father. I'm a father. I have a son.

Neah is going to kill me.

Thoughts of his brother and the rest of the Noah family's reaction to finding out about this little baby made Mana feel even more nervous. When he'd received her letter, he hadn't told anyone, only left the Campbell manor as soon as possible. Still standing on the street's edge, he peered down at the mess of blankets in his arms. Didn't fathers usually feel warm and soft and cry when they first met their children? He observed the tiny features of his baby, waiting for the fuzzy feelings.

It was a cute baby, to be sure. The red hair was still waif-thin but stuck up slightly in a way that promised to be as rebellious as Mana and Neah's hair had once been. Still, no improvement on the fatherly emotions. Mana felt mostly fearful. There was no doubt that he was his child, due to certain timings, but shouldn't he feel something?

The baby's eyes opened slowly, peering up at Mana. They were the dark blue that most babies had when small, but were very bright. He yawned, showing off toothless gums, and then went back to sleep.

Holy stars above. Mana's heart melted at the sight. I'm this little child's father, he repeated to himself. He's mine. We're family. How had something so cute and small ever come from him?

When he thought of the child's mother, something akin to anger arose in him. She'd referred to the baby as "it." She'd wanted nothing to do with him. At the time, he'd been too overwhelmed with the fact that he was a father, but now he realized how cruel she had been. I'm not guiltless either, he knew, for causing her pregnancy. However, he had never met a mother who would refer to her own flesh and blood as "it." He could see that one of the baby's arms was wrapped up in a mess of cloth and bandages. Was this the disfigurement she referred to?

A mere arm. More anger boiled in him.

Mana D. Campbell was usually a kind, mild-mannered man. When it came to things like family and those he loved, though, he would easily give up this kindness in exchange for the will to protect them. As he looked down at his child, he swore he'd never let any disfigurement affect his love.

"I'll become a better father for you," he whispered to the baby. "...Allen."

Thus, Allen Campbell was loved.

* * *

"It's a letter from Mana," Neah noted, going through the mail the postboy had just delivered on horseback to the manor. "I wonder how his trip is going. He left rather suddenly."

"Earl should be back in the next few weeks, riiight?" Road whined, hanging over his shoulder. He didn't react to her usual antics.

Mana, more commonly referred to as "the Millennium Earl," was the head of the Noah family. When the previous Adam reincarnated he had turned into twins; Mana and Neah. However, the Millennium Earl was only ever meant to be one person. Mana had inherited the original Memory of Adam, and due to the nature of them being twins, Neah had been cursed with something called "the fourteenth."

Not something Neah wanted to remember. The fight to rid himself of the fourteenth's curse had nearly cost both twins their lives, and he was grateful that it was over.

"Yeah, he should be back soon," Neah said, tearing open his brother's letter. He scanned the brief words.

"What did he write?" she asked, as he held the letter out of the reach of her grabbing hands. "Neeeahh, tell me!"

"It's only two sentences long." Neah blinked, not understanding the message. "It says that he's—"taking an extended vacation.""

"A vacation? But he's the Earl." She made another grab for the letter, and they both tumbled across the couch.

"Who's going on vacation?" Tyki asked, entering the room to see his two siblings wrestling like children on the furniture. "Can Noah even take vacations?"

"Earl is! Neah won't let me see the letter!"

"Fine, fine! I'll read it to you but you have to get off me!" Road obligingly crawled off her Noah-brother's chest, allowing him to sit up. "This is all it says."

Neah,

tell the family I am going on vacation for a little while. I am safe, everything is fine. Don't try to find me. You are head of family until I return.

Mana

"He says you're the head of family? Does he know you don't have Noah powers?" Tyki said sarcastically. Since the incident with the fourteenth's curse, Neah had been left without any sort of inhuman abilities. He had permanent gold eyes and gold-gray skin, the inhuman immortal lifespan, but no powers.

"Shut it, Tyki," Neah said. "You heard the letter. I'm in charge now." He grinned at them both, running a hand through his ever-spiky hair. "I would now like to be called Millennium King, instead of Earl. I think it sounds nicer." Road rolled her eyes, sucking on her lemon candy.

Tyki scoffed. "You know he'll probably be back in a week or two."

* * *

The first few months were easy. After figuring out what to feed Allen (and the whole diaper situation) Mana decided that traveling back to the Campbell manor with a baby as small as Allen was unsafe. He found a little apartment in a neighboring city that had one room but plenty of room for Allen to crawl, once he learned low. The infant did not cry much, but loved to be rocked by Mana and have his toes tickled. Mana spent hours in the apartment talking to Allen, reading him books, and attempting to find toys that he liked.

Being a single father wasn't easy. He couldn't always take Allen wherever he went, especially when there was the danger of exorcists being nearby. Akuma, as such, made rather excellent babysitters. Especially when they obeyed Mana with absolute loyalty. Allen never showed any fear when an inhuman demon (complete with black eyes, horns, and other assorted dark marks) picked him up or fed him dinner occasionally. In fact, he seemed to love playing with level-threes and twos.

"M-master, are you sure the human infant is suitable for our company?" one akuma had asked, looking horrified as Allen sucked on its horns.

"Quite," Mana had laughed in reply, feeling a little bit of pity for the monster. Baby drool wasn't that bad, though.

He tried to be home as much as he could. Surprisingly, Neah and the rest of his family had respected his wishes and left him alone, although Mana wasn't sure how long this peaceful time with Allen would last. He loved his Noah family, and he knew they would adore Allen. However, Allen wasn't quite ready to meet the rest of them.

Mana needed the time. He wanted to first figure out how to be a good father to his son, before letting the family do the same.

* * *

"Here comes the elephant!" Mana said, bouncing the stuffed animal he'd bought that morning towards the baby. At five months old, Allen looked adorable in the tiny jumper he'd been dressed in. His red hair (as incorrigible as Neah's) was pulled into a tail and tied with a bow. He gave Mana a deadpan look.

Mana snorted. It was like looking at Neah's trademark "are-you-serious" expression, albeit with chubbier cheeks and a different hair color. I suppose Allen looks like both of us, since we're halves of the same person.

"Elephants aren't that exciting?" he asked Allen, who gazed back at him. "No, it looks like they're not."

The baby sat on the rug across the living floor of the apartment. He was learning how to crawl, but still fell on his face often. It made Mana's heart beam with pride every time Allen lifted his head from the ground and gave him a triumphant smile, as if to say, "I can still get up!"

"What do you want to do? It's too early for bedtime." Allen continued staring. Mana brightened. "I know! I'll show you how to juggle!" He stood and rummaged around in one of the drawers in the kitchen, pulling out a couple red balls. `Then, he demonstrated to Allen a simple juggling trick.

More staring. A hint of a smile at his son's mouth? "Here, you try," the father handed his son one of the balls. Allen held it in one chubby hand, paused, and then chucked it back at Mana.

"Good job! That's exactly how you start," he said, trying to be positive. Maybe Allen was too young to learn how to juggle. After all, he was only— five months?

"I just realized, Allen," Mana sat down from across the chubby baby, "I don't know what day you were born on." He patted his son's head. "I will have to give you a birthdate. You must've been born in December sometime," he trailed off, thinking. Allen babbled a couple noises, as if they were having a conversation. "Yes, yes, I agree," Mana nodded. "How about Christmas?" It was the first date that came to mind, and he realized that Allen and Tyki would share a birthday as such. "That way, there will be worldwide celebrations on the same day!" Tyki will be jealous, he thought with humor.

"Yhaaa," Allen clapped his hand against Mana's shoulder.

* * *

Allen Campbell was still just a baby, but he was starting to understand things.

The man who was nearly always at his side, that was Father. Though his mouth was unable to shape the words yet, Allen tried his best to say the name. Father was wonderful. Father loved to play with Allen and give him kisses and make him laugh, and his hands were always soft and warm when he held Allen.

Allen loved to make Father laugh, too. His dad had long, beautiful hair pulled back in a long ponytail, and Allen loved to play with it. Father's eyes were blue and they always twinkled when he smiled. He wore hats that Allen thought were dumb, but that was okay. Sometimes, Father's skin would turn darker and his eyes would become the color of sun. Allen didn't mind this. It was the same Father, just with different colors.

He loved Father.

* * *

Mana was awoken by the sound of Allen's crying. He arose from his bed, stepping across the room to where his son's crib was. "Hey, hey," he whispered, picking up the small infant. Allen rested his face against the crook of his father's neck, whimpering. "Did you have a bad dream?" He slowly rubbed his hand in circles on the child's back.

Allen held his arm tightly against his little chest. Mana knew that the deformed limb sometimes caused his son pain, although he didn't understand why or how to fix it. He closed his eyes in the darkness, wishing for the thousandth time he had a better understanding of humans and how to help Allen. The arm was kept wrapped, because he knew it helped the aches to have bandages around it. The skin was ridged and red, and the wrist and fingers were perpetually thin from lack of use. Allen was unable to move anything past his elbow on the limb.

He hummed a lullaby, singing the words quietly to Allen. "...then the boy fell asleep, breathing, flames among the ashes..." it was a song that his own adoptive mother Katerina had sung for him and Neah when they were children. " Slowly, the child fell back asleep. Mana laid him back down in his crib and tucked the blankets around the little red-haired boy. "Sleep well," he whispered, kissing his son's forehead.

* * *

"It's ugly," Allen said, quite clearly. Mana stared in shock. The child was just past eighteen months old, and had only said a few words ("Father," "'kuma," "yes" and "no," and "dog"). They had recently celebrated his birthday, and Mana had been excited to dress him in new clothes.

"It's a little circus outfit," Mana said, as if that would change Allen's toddler opinion.

"Ug-ly," Allen repeated. He gave Mana an irritated look. How does a one-year-old know how to make that expression? the Millennium Earl thought. "Fadder, no." Even with his toddler-lisp, the words were said very seriously.

"I think you've been spending too much time with akuma."

"kuma yes. Fadder, no."

Mana sighed. "You're just like Neah. He would be proud."

Allen nodded, his red hair bouncing.

* * *

It was a surprise when Timcampy appeared in the apartment one morning while Mana and Allen were eating breakfast. Mana stood up out of his chair, expecting his brother to appear with the golem at any moment.

"Bir!" Allen cried, waving his oatmeal-covered spoon towards the flitting golden orb. "Bir!"

"Not a bird, a golem," Mana corrected. "It is named Timcampy."

"Bir-PY."

The golem, more magically alive than a metal object should've been, showed surprise at seeing Allen. Mana grabbed it from the air. "Did Neah find us?" It shook its body, then opened its mouth to show pointy teeth. "You have a message?" The recording projected into the air. Mana released the golem, allowing the message to play. Allen clapped his hands excitedly at seeing the shimmering image.

"Mana D Campbell, it has been twenty-one months since you left." Neah sat at a table, his hands crossed as he stared directly into the picture. Mana's mouth quirked. It was wonderful to see his brother's familiar face, with that ever-messy hair and playful golden eyes. "This is not a vacation. This is absconding from your duties as the Millennium Earl."

Neah was suddenly pushed out of the picture as Road shoved his chair over. "HI EARL! Wisely says you've probably joined another circus troupe!"

"HE BETTER HAVE DANG WELL NOT," Neah's voice yelled from off-screen. Mana could see the room they'd recorded from, and a pang of homesickness stung in his heart. It was the living room of the Campbell manor.

"Well, we were just checking in to make sure you're doing all right! There's been several new akuma arriving here, so we assume you're still alive and making new ones." Neah's hand appeared and shoved Road's face away from Timcampy, and he appeared in the video again.

"I've told Timcampy to find you and deliver this. If you don't send a message back, I'm assuming you're in trouble and I'll go find you." Allen giggled as Neah's face took up the entire frame, his golden eyes glaring at them. "You stupid brother."

""Stupid" is a bad word." Mana told Allen quickly. "We don't use that word,"

"Fadder?" Allen asked, pointing to the message.

"No, that's Father's brother. We're twins. His name is Neah." The boy's eyes flicked between his uncle and his father. "Uncle Neah."

"Unkul Nay," Allen pronounced. Mana nodded.

The message ending, Timcampy closed his mouth. "I suppose I should send a message back to him."

He felt guilty from still hiding Allen from the rest of his family. Yet, he didn't think he was ready to introduce his son to the Noah. He was scared that once he returned as the full-acting Millennium Earl, the Black Order would find out about Allen. His heart tightened at the thought of his son being in danger.

"Timcampy, please record me. But make sure Allen doesn't get in the picture." Mana looked at Allen, who kicked his feet happily in his small kitchen chair. The golem bobbed its head. He took a deep breath. "Neah, I'm doing fine. I am still on vacation, so please continue to leave me ... to have my space." Mana coughed awkwardly, unsure of what to say to his family. "I should be home soon? Perhaps in another year. There have been some complications which require my time." One complication. Having a son. "N-nothing serious!" he added. "Just time-consuming. I think that's it. Goodbye!"

Timcampy ended the message. "Bye!" Allen repeated, pounding his spoon for emphasis. "Unk Nay!"

* * *

Neah paced back and forth in the large living room of the manor, irritated beyond measure. His dark hair was even messier than usual. "Neah," Tyki started, unsure of what to say. "I'm sure he just needs some time."

"Time away from what?!" Neah shrieked, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm the perfect example of a perfect brother. He doesn't need time away from me."

"Being the Millenium Earl is busy. Maybe he just wants to take a really long vacation," Wisely offered. Neah angrily sat back down at the table, stuffing his face with the pie they'd been sharing.

"It better be a dang good reason," he mumbled, cheeks stuffed full of food. He paused. "Don't tell Boric I ate his pie."

* * *

"I think you need a haircut," Mana said, as Allen played with the wooden train set he'd gotten for his second birthday. The boy's red hair, when down, went past his shoulders. However, it was very thick and Mana kept it pulled back so it wouldn't get in Allen's face.

"No," Allen stated, continuing to push the trains around.

"It grows back, Allen. You don't want a cute new haircut?" Mana crouched in front of his son, brushing his bangs off his forehead.

"Father, no cut." The boy's fingers reached up around Mana's neck, tugging at the long ponytail he kept. "Be like Father."

Mana sighed ruefully. He did, indeed, keep his dark hair long. Physically, Mana D. Campbell looked to be in his late twenties. In his human form his eyes were blue and overly-pale skin (which was a cause of Neah's endless teasing), but in his Noah form he had golden eyes and golden-brown skin, with stigmata across his forehead.

In actuality, Mana was around forty years old, since that was when the previous incarnation of Adam had split into twins. Of course, it was harder to pin down his actual age. "Adam," the figure who was both a father and the source of his Noah memory (and the source for Allen's name) was supposedly 7,000 years old. However, Noah could control their physical age, and he'd always preferred this one. Both him and Neah looked relatively young.

"Neah's hair was like this when he was younger, so perhaps yours will be tamer when you grow up," Mana said. Allen nodded.

"Unk Nay. No hair."

"We won't cut your hair. For now," he added, giving Allen a serious look. "But if it gets past your waist I might have to intervene."

"Okay, Father."

* * *

Mana held onto Allen's good hand tightly as they walked down the street. At nine in the morning, the window shoppers and bustling crowds were occupied with running the daily errands. Keeping a toddler's attention in such a bright, exciting place was easier said than done. For the countless time, Allen tugged on Mana's hand and pulled him towards on the numerous shops. In the window of the little boutique, beautiful candies and caramel pastries were on display. Allen stuck his nose against the window.

"Pease." Please. Mana tried to not smile. If he gave into every little thing he wanted to buy for Allen, his son would be very, very spoiled.

"Not right now. We have other places to stop at. We need fresh fruit and vegetables, remember?" The red-haired boy looked up at his father, big blue eyes wide and pouting. Mana cried internally. "Maybe on the way back, if you behave yourself."

"Okay. Only you like vegg, Father. Vegg are ugly." Allen's adorable child voice was matter-of-fact.

"If you don't eat your vegetables, you won't grow any taller."

The red-haired boy frowned. "I just need to be taller than Father."

Mana reached down and picked up the boy, swinging him up onto his shoulders. Allen squealed, patting his hand on Mana's top hat. In his tiny coat and shorts, he was the perfect image of a wealthy noble child. The Millennium Earl was pleased. He wouldn't have his son look any other way. "Now you're taller than me!" The small boy giggled.

If any passerby gave Allen's limp arm a second glance, they both ignored it.

* * *

Allen opened his eyes, staring into the darkness. Father had just left the apartment, thinking that h was still asleep. One of the akuma stood sentry near the door. The little boy crawled out of his bed, tiptoeing across the floor. The akuma made no move to stop him as Allen pressed his nose against the glass of the apartment window overlooking the street. Far below, Father, in a dark coat and top hat, passed under a street light.

"Young master, please get back into bed," the akuma said in a gravelly voice from behind him. "The Earl won't be pleased to find you awake at this hour."

"Why you call Father "Earl?""

The akuma fell silent. "Tell me," Allen repeated.

"He is the Millennium Earl. The father, the leader of all Noah and akuma."

The red-haired boy took this in, thinking it over. "But Father is my father."

"You are his first human child. We call him Father because he makes all the akuma from other humans who have died."

"Ohh." Allen nodded, as if that was a perfectly normal answer. "What is Noah?"

"Noah are the ancient leaders of the akuma, who watch over humankind."

Allen didn't really understand, but nodded anyways. He turned back to the window, looking down at the street. The night was dark and cold, but he knew his father was strong and that nothing could hurt him.

"The Millennium Earl," he carefully pronounced. "Father."

* * *

The boy loved the park. There were lots of other people there, but the greenery of the grass and shrubs allowed plenty of room for him and Father to walk. Mothers stepped carefully in corsets with little laced umbrellas, boys and girls raced around playing with cloth-covered balls, fathers laughed and held their wives' hands.

Even though playing ball looked like fun, Allen preferred to walk with his father. Having only one arm that worked made things challenging.

"Allen," Father started, after they'd been walking for a few minutes along the stone path, "are you ever sad that you don't have a mother?" His voice was hesitant, nervous.

Allen had noticed that usually other kids his age had two parents. Mothers seemed wonderfully soft and kind. However, he loved Mana and knew that having just a father would be enough for him. He shrugged, holding tighter onto Father's hand. "Not too sad. Father is girly enough."

Mana made a choking noise. "Excuse me, young man! I am very manly."

The red-haired boy looked up at his father, smirking, and then pointedly rolled his eyes. "Sure, Father. I heard Misses Neighbor across the hall say that your hair is as lovely as a woman's." He giggled to himself. "I don't think she want me to hear that, but I didn't tell her."

"It's scary how much you sound like Neah," Father murmured, then started laughing. "We should both get haircuts, then, eh?"

"No." Allen looked away from Mana to gaze over the beautiful, sprawling greenery of the city park. "When will you take me to meet Uncle Nay? You talk about him a lot."

"Soon. Uncle "Nay" and the rest of our family can be very crazy." Mana stopped walking, meeting Allen's gaze, and smiled. "I just want to cherish you as much as I can before you become even sassier to me!" He reached out, playfully squishing Allen's cheeks, and then pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Hey! No kissing me!" Allen yelled, fighting his father's hug even though he couldn't help the happy smile that broke out on his cheeks. Mana pulled back, staring into his son's blue eyes, which were nearly the same shade as his own.

"Never stop walking, Allen." Allen stared back, unsure of the meaning of his words. Father leaned forward, resting his forehead on Allen's. "Even if everything around you seems hopeless, you must never lose hope. Always continue forward."

The red-haired boy was silent, feeling the weight of his father's words. He felt warm, safe inside Mana's arms, and it felt easy to say yes. "Okay, Father. Even though that sounds dumb."

Mana laughed again. "I remembered it's what Neah always told me when we were children, because I was sick a lot and had trouble staying happy." Allen remembered when he'd had a cold the previous month, and nodded in understanding. Being sick was not fun. "It's gotten me through a lot of hard things," Mana continued. "I think it will help you too, my boy."

"You better listen to your own advice and get out of the path, Father, because I think that carriage behind us is about to run you over."

* * *

The first months with Allen had turned into a year, two years, and suddenly four years had passed and Mana hadn't visited the Campbell manor. As he watched the yearly message from Neah, his heart tugged. It was nearing time. He needed to return home. Allen would meet his family.

"Mana, this is Neah. Nothing's changed. We've gotten the two level-four akuma you sent last month. I hope you're doing well." Neah sounded tired. Mana bit his lip, the guilt of how long he'd left his Noah family piling up. As the message ended, he could've sworn Timcampy was giving him a disappointed look.

He sat down at the single couch in the living room of the apartment, musing at the differences between the Noah home and the home he and Allen shared. Allen's toys were scattered around, along with several papers and maps of local exorcist sightings. I think it's time to return. Allen is growing quickly, and certain things I can't teach him very well on my own. He closed his eyes, breathing in and out. It is time.

"Start recording," he told the golem. "Hello, everyone. I have made the decision to return home in a month's time. I have missed you these past years, and I apologize for the time slipping by so fast. Neah, I hope you haven't done too much damage to the house. Please expect me near the end of January. I have—"

"Sir!" Mana jumped as one of the sentry akuma he always left around the house entered the room. "Two of the level-threes on the other side of the city have been killed!"

"Exorcists," Mana said the word like it was a curse. "Are they heading this way?" The akuma shook its gigantic, machine-like head.

"They are seeking another shard of Innocence, but do not know where it is."

That was good. The Black Order was obsessed with finding crystals of a poisonous substance called Innocence, which Mana would never understand. When used, it caused its wielders extreme pain and sometimes disfigured them physically. However, it was the only thing that could kill akuma and harm his family. "Timcampy, end the recording!" he called over his shoulder as he tugged on his overcoat. "Watch over Allen while I'm gone," he told the akuma, and then left. The apartment door locked behind him.

* * *

Allen heard Father leave. He poked his head out of the bathroom, where he had been getting dressed for the day. Father said he was a big boy now, because he could get changed all by himself (even though doing up buttons with one hand was hard). "Where'd Father go?" he asked the akuma.

"He had to help others of our kind."

Allen noticed the golden golem flitting around in the living space of the apartment. "Birpy!" It visited once or twice a year with a message from Uncle Nay and the rest of Father's family. Usually, Father made it leave right after it came. Maybe I can play with Birpy this time.

He reached up and caught Birpy's tail, tugging it down so he could look at it in its face. What does Father always say when he wants to send a message?

"Start recording'" he told Timcampy. The golem looked very uncomfortable, but bobbed its little head in a "yes."

Now, what should I say to Uncle Nay?

* * *

Neah D. Campbell was an excellent brother. Their adoptive mother, Katerina, had told him so when they were young. It was still true. He still was absolutely amazing at pranking Mana and irritating his brother to no end, forty years later (which Neah considered a sign of skill).

However, he had his limits. Their extended Noah family was crazy. As in, family-members-literally-losing-heads-over-small-arguments kind of crazy. While any bloodshed wasn't permanent (Noah genes were wicked strong at regeneration), it made the atmosphere of the Campbell manor rather tense without Mana to diffuse the feelings.

Neah's brother, the Millennium Earl, was probably an angel in their past life. He dealt wonderfully with all the little tussles and arguments that broke out between the other residences of the household. He made amazing food. Even though he did nerdy circus tricks all the time, he had a warm smile and Neah was glad to have him as a twin brother.

Back to the issue at hand, though. Neah had his limits as Mana's brother. Mana had very few flaws, but one major flaw that was becoming more and more noticeable was that Mana had not been home in four years.

FOUR. YEARS.

"Neah, don't think too hard, it'll hurt your brain."

Neah, pulled from his thoughts, gave a scathing glance to Tyki, who sat across the breakfast table. "At least I have a brain."

"It's too early for you two to start fighting," Road sing-songed as she entered the dining hall. "It makes Boric cry."

Skinn Boric was a gentle, youthful soul put inside the body of a hulking giant. Neah winced, recalling last week when the man had walked in on the food fight Neah, Wisely, and Tyki had been participating in. Boric had, indeed, cried tears of sadness at "seeing his brothers so angry at each other."

"What did Cookuma make for breakfast?" Wisely asked, coming in behind Road. The white-haired Noah had his usual bedhead and looked half-dead inside (which might not have been too far from the truth).

"Eggs benedict," said Lulubell, from the other side of Neah. The servants of the manor were mostly akuma, since average humans had troubles dealing with Noah and all the problems that came with the family. The cook of the house was a level-three they all fondly called "Cookuma."

Neah ate more eggs, forcing himself to ignore his annoyed feelings. In past years, his brother would be sitting next to him. Neah could almost imagine Mana's voice, worriedly telling him to be more positive. The dining hall was long, to fit the gigantic oak table they all sat at, and had tall windows along the far side. Something golden flashed near the ceiling as it entered the room from a window. Neah looked up, then grinned. "Tim! You're back!"

The golem caught everyone's attention as it flitted down to its maker. "Another message from Earl?" Wisely asked. Tim obediently opened its mouth, projecting Mana on the far wall for everyone to see.

His brother was unchanged, Neah was relieved to see. When Mana first disappeared four years, he'd been worried that something had gone wrong or that Mana had been hurt. However, his worries had been assuaged by the yearly messages sent back to them.

"Hello, everyone. I have made the decision to return home in a month's time. I have missed you these past years, and I apologize for the time slipping by so fist. Neah, I hope you haven't done too much damage to the house. Please expect me near the end of January. I have—" In the video, Mana jumped up as another akuma entered the room. There were exorcists in the neighboring city. Mana ended the message in a hurry, waving his hand to Tim to shut off the recording. Tim shut his mouth, then busied himself with consuming some of Neah's silverware.

"He's coming back!" Road cheered, waving her spoon in a triumphant dance. "Earl is coming back!" Murmurs and happy sighs echoed around the table, as everyone visibly relaxed. They had all missed their Millennium Earl very much. Even Neah couldn't hide his pleased smile. It's about time, Mana.

"A month's time will approach fast," Sheryl said, probably thinking of all the damage Tyki and Neah had caused to the beautiful house that had yet to be fixed.

"It better," Neah agreed. "Four years was too long for Mana to hide from us without giving a reason. Tim, was that the end of the message?" Mana had left the apartment in a hurry, so he wondered if there was anything after that.

Tim gurgled down a little bit more silver and flapped his wings, shaking his body "no." Neah would've turned back to his eggs and continued eating happily, except he paused, staring at Tim. The golem looked— guilty.

"...Tim...?" he asked again. The other Noah looked up at hearing Neah's suspicious tone, also observing the golem. "Is there something you're hiding?" Timcampy covered its face with its wings. "You are! Come on, Tim, I'm like your dad. I made you. If you don't show me, I'll have take you apart," he playfully threatened.

Tim made some angry machine noises and threw up the chewed-up silverware back onto Neah's napkin, but finally opened its mouth and projected the rest of the message. At first, it showed an empty apartment. Then, the top of a child's head poked into the picture. "Birpy, are you recording? Okay, good." The image zoomed out as Timcampy must've moved backwards.

A small child sat on the couch, staring at the golem. He had spiky red hair, and was dressed in well-tailored little jumper and white shirt. "Um, hello Uncle Nay!"

Instantly, there was dead silence in the dining hall.

"Father says I'll meet you soon, but since Birpy sends messages, I thought it'd be okay to send you one just like Father. I'm Allen!"

Neah dropped his fork onto his plate, utterly frozen. "Holy stars," he whispered.

The child kicked his feet, obviously thinking hard of what to say. "Ummmm... I hope you and Aunt Road and Uncle Tik and Uncle Shurl and everyone are doing good. I haven't met you yet. But I will soon!" he repeated, as if to remind himself. "And then we can go on walks together and draw together."

Golden eyes ran back and forth over the boy's features. Everything Neah saw confirmed the nagging suspicion in his mind.

"Okay, I think that's it! Bye bye!" the boy decided, and grinned at the camera. The message went dark. Tim closed his mouth, whirring nervously. The room was still completely silent.

"That was.." Wisely started, but didn't finish. They all knew exactly who it had to be. "Do you— think Earl knew he sent that message?" It was doubtful.

"They have the same smile," Sheryl whispered.

"He has Mana's blue eyes," Road said, her voice serious and not its usual playful tone. There was no doubt in any of the Noah's mind as to who this little boy was.

"I'm—" Neah said, and then slammed his hands on the table. "I'M GOING TO KILL MANA!" The dishes rattled across the wooden surface and Timcampy hopped away. He started doing summations on his fingers, counting up the months and figuring out how old the boy had to be.

"Neah, that's a bit—" Sheryl started, but Neah interrupted.

"NO, SHERYL, I'M MAD! HE'S ALREADY CHEATED ME OUT OF FOUR YEARS OF BEING A COOL UNCLE!"

The twin's mind was racing over everything that had been revealed in the past minute. Mana had a son. MANA HAD A SON. Neah had a nephew named Allen, who had Adam's trademark incorrigible hair—though it was a russet red, probably from the mother—and blue eyes and smiled like just Mana and holy stars above I'm an uncle.

"We have a new member of the family," Lulubell said in a mild tone. "It's been a while." She smiled at Neah. "The rest of us are in line as well, to be "cool" aunts and uncles to his child."

"I'm first," Neah announced, folding his arms. "If you get specific, Mana and I are two halves of Adam, the same person, which makes Allen my child too. So I get first dibs."

"That's not fairrrr," Road whined. "I want to squish his chubby cheeks first." Neah waved his fork threateningly at her, as Tyki flicked eggs towards the both of them.

"I-I'd like to share my sweets with him," Boric whispered, a shy smile on his huge features. Everyone laughed, and Lulubell told Boric that would be just fine.

For the first time in months, the dining hall felt bright and happy.

* * *

Allen Campbell knew much more than he did when he was a baby.

He knew how to read the alphabet, how to draw with the pastels Father brought him, how to button up his own shirts and tie his boots. He knew how to juggle, and could even balance on a ball like his father did. He knew that it was the beginning of December, which meant he would be turning five years old soon, and he could count to that number on his fingers. He knew how to make Father laugh.

There were two major things that Allen Campbell didn't know about.

The first was the source of the odd dreams he sometimes had. They all started with him in a large, abandoned place surrounded by deep puddles and the wreckage of old buildings. In the dream, Allen would look over the edge of stone he stood on, into the deep black water to see another person looking at him. Even though nothing else happened in the dream, when he woke up he always felt a sense of unease. He never told Father about them, because they didn't make much sense and he was afraid of sounding childish.

The second thing that he didn't know about was that in a few days Allen Campbell would be dead.

* * *

"It's too far past your bedtime," Mana sighed, trying to appear the stern parent. In the crisp December air, both his and Allen's cheeks were tinged red with cold. However, he had made sure Allen was wrapped up with scarves and mittens and thick woolen coat so the boy didn't get chilled.

"Father, look at the snowflakes!" Allen said, gesturing to the night-black sky. In the light of streetlamps around them, the falling flakes were lit with a golden yellow before they landed on the icy cobblestones. "It's the first snowfall!" It was around ten at night, a rare time for the two of them to be out on a walk.

"It is," Mana mused, recalling all the years of first snowfalls he had shared with his mother Katerina, and Neah. It was wonderfully strange to be sharing a first Christmastime snowfall with his own child.

He picked up Allen and blew warm air on his face, making Allen giggle. "Are your cheeks warming up?"

"They're fine, Father," Allen's blue eyes were framed by lashes covered in tiny, melting snowflakes as he gazed back at Mana. "I'm happy to see Uncle Nay and the family in a week."

"Are you sure it's really a week?" The dark-haired man said, playfully making a confused expression. "I think it might be another month or two."

"No!" Allen smacked Mana's cheeks with his mitten. His other arm was tucked into his coat, to make sure the cold didn't give it aches. "Don't try to trick me. You promised that we get to go to your big house and meet Father's family."

Mana laughed, his cheeks smarting from the tiny impacts. "You're right, I'm sorry." He set Allen back down against the stone street, patting the woolen hat he'd forced onto the four-year-old.

"Master, this is level two number 0814. Some exorcists are giving chase to us." One the akuma Mana had placed at the other end of the city sent him a message into his Noah mind.

"If you believe them to be above your level, retreat and double back to our neighboring city as soon as possible. Do not kill the exorcists if you are able to," Mana mentally instructed the level two.

"Understood." The buzzing noise in his mind that always accompanied an akuma's call went silent.

"Are you tired, Father?" Allen asked, staring up at him. Mana blinked. He was tired, in fact. The Black Order's activity in a nearby city was costing him hours of finding willing human souls to become akuma, as well as time away from Allen. Whenever there was even a hint of Innocence crystal, the horrid organization went into a frenzy to try and find it.

"A little bit," Mana admitted. "Some bad men have been hurting the akuma, which makes Father's job harder."

"They don't know that akuma are really good at playing with me," Allen said, in a serious tone that didn't fit his childish voice.

"They are giving chase," the akuma voice appeared again. "There are three from the cursed Order."

"Leave them alone," Mana repeated. He tried to focus on Allen, feeling the weight of his Millennium Earl duties lift as he remembered what a beautiful place they were standing in. The akuma would be fine. Exorcists were annoying, but he tried to avoid any confrontation with them so he wasn't forced to end anyone's life.

"They don't know how good a babysitters akuma are," he agreed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his son yawn. "It's definitely time for your bedtime, Allen."

"Master, the exorcists…"

"N-no, I'm not tired—"

BOOM!

In one moment, the entire street was lit up with fire. Suddenly, all Mana could see was ash and explosion and the flashing light of akuma guns. A long black exorcist cloak fluttered in front of him, and he saw the ugly green of their Innocence weapon being activated.

Allen. Where was Allen?!

"Father!" The sound of his son's voice, more scared and desperate than he'd ever heard it, made his blood freeze in his veins. The smoke cleared slightly, and he caught sight of the now-burning buildings in front of him and realized Allen was a few paces away, crouched in fear. More bullets tore up the cobblestones as the akuma tried their best to hit the exorcists. They were good soldiers, and none of the weapons came close to hitting the small child. The exorcists had some kind of gun-type innocence as well, which completely sliced one of the akuma in half.

The acrid taste of Innocence crystal being activated burned Mana's throat. He smelled the green, glowing substance before he spotted it across the street, fallen onto the side of the street, a foot away from Allen. The thing the exorcists have been looking for.

"Allen!" He cried, getting the red-haired boy's attention. "I'm coming for you!"

The street in between them was a mess of akuma blood-oil and burning timber that had been blown from the empty shops. He didn't know whether the explosions had come from the akuma or exorcists, but he was grateful none of the shards had hit Allen.

"Father!" The boy tried to stand from where he'd fallen, but slipped on the oil beneath him. Another blast from one of the exorcist's weapons hit the second floor of the building directly over Allen and the Innocence crystal. Mana's heart fell into his stomach as he saw the timbers begin to fall. The entire thing happened in a second, but with his inhuman Noah genes, it lasted a century to him.

He started forward, even while knowing he would never make it to Allen in time.

He saw one of the exorcists dive towards his son, arms outstretched, ready to protect from the burning wood and embers.

He saw the exorcist, instead of protecting Allen, grab the crystal of Innocence and leave his son defenseless.

He saw Allen's wide blue eyes meet his in a frantic, frozen second.

The sound of his son's pained scream was a sound that Mana D. Campbell would never, in his life, ever forget.

The building crashed down atop the boy and the exorcist, though it was clear Allen had the worst side of it. One of the timbers cut directly down his face and the sound of his cry cut off in a chilling silence. Mana suddenly realized that the person still screaming was himself. He was beside Allen's fallen form in a second, shoving burning embers and wood off his son and cradling his head. Oh, stars. Blood. There was so much blood. It coated his fingers and wrists and knees as he held Allen's broken body, searching for signs of life.

"Allen, Allen," he sobbed, the tears on his face feeling hotter than the fires around them. "Please—don't die."

"Fa…" Allen rasped, trying to raise his good arm. The force of the blow had hit the right side of his body, and Mana saw with horror that his right eye was completely torn apart. A furrowed wound ran from his forehead down to his chin, and from the wet sound of his breathing, Mana knew at least one of his lungs was punctured.

"I love you," he whispered desperately, brushing back Allen's red hair. "I love you." His voice broke, but he forced himself to speak. "Father will always love you."

"Lo- ve Fa—ther," Allen slurred out. His good eye was filled with tears as he tried again to raise his fingers to Mana's face. "It —s o-kay." Slowly, the rasping breaths slowed. Mana's sobs came quicker. The little boy's mouth tilted up in what might've been a smile, as he attempted to show his father I'm okay I'll be fine—

His son stopped breathing.

Allen Campbell had died.

* * *

There was no way to describe the agony that ripped Mana's chest apart. As he laid Allen's small body back down to the cobblestones, his Noah form overtook him, and he turned to face the exorcists with eyes of burning sun. "I got the shard!" the man who'd protected the crystal when the building fell cried triumphantly, holding up the glowing object. The other exorcists shouted happily.

"My son," Mana said, and even though his voice was deathly quiet, it echoed throughout the wasteland of a street. "He was killed."

The exorcist caught sight of him. He lowered his hand. "This crystal will save many more, sir. I'm sorry that your son was killed by those monsters, but you should be happy that you're alive." He smiled, and it sickened Mana to see how pleased he was. "Tonight is a wonderful victory for the Black Order!"

"I will show you victory," Mana hissed, and raised his hands.

* * *

Many miles away, twelve other Noah reacted as they felt their brother's pain. Neah, although having the Noah genes, didn't understand why Road suddenly went deathly pale. "What's wrong?" he asked, sitting up slightly on the couch. Her late-night snack of chocolate fell from her fingers as she half-stood, then collapsed back to the chair.

She couldn't speak. There was no way to explain the immense pressure of hurtpainsadnessanger that the first apostle was unconsciously sharing with the rest of them. It was like being drowned in the depths of the ocean with pure emotion. She lifted her hands, as if to say something, but then only tears came. He looked up to see Tyki leaning against the doorframe of the living room, gripping his chest. It was alarming to see the cool-witted Noah of pleasure look so much in pain.

"What's wrong?" he demanded again. Above them, there was the sound of heavy footsteps and then a crash. Through the ceiling Neah could hear Boric sobbing. "What is your Noah hearing telling you?"

Tyki turned away, his golden eyes dark. Road wouldn't meet Neah's gaze either. "The Millennium Earl's son has just died," she whispered, "and so he is killing all the exorcists."

* * *

Once he had done with the exorcists what he had wished to, Mana bent next to his son's fallen form. "I'll be back for you, my dear boy," he whispered, his voice breaking on the last word. "Father has some things he needs to take care of."

The Black Order would never forget the havoc that was wreaked on it the night of his son's death.

* * *

A dark street. The fires that had previously burned were all out by now, and the snow fell more heavily. All the streetlamps had been blown out. It was nearing one in the morning, and few souls were venturing out to see what had happened to the section of street that was obliterated. There was no sign of the man with the top hat, or the strange machine-like weapons that followed him.

A small, broken boy lay on the street, near the edge under the broken eaves of a shop. Though no one was around to see it, a bright light began to glow on one of his hands. The light was a stark green color, contrasting with the dark red of the drying blood across his body and on the street underneath him. The green light pulsed. Pulsed again.

Slowly, the boy's body began to mend. Underneath his burnt and torn clothes, the tissue of the lungs repaired, and then the broken ribs, and then the shattered bones of his arm and spine. Within a few minutes, one would be able to see the small rise and fall of his chest as he breathed normally.

The face didn't heal perfectly. When the green light reached his cheek and eye, it hesitated. The deep cut mended over after a moment of deliberation, and then the light continued on upwards across his scalp and finish back in his right arm. Left behind on the child's face was a strange marking. It was like a shooting star, rising upwards across his cheek and resting above his eyebrow. His hair was now a bleached stark white, as white as the snow around him.

The green light, though healing him, had also marked him. He was a child of the Millennium Earl. He would always bear the scar of a demon, as the Innocence had deigned.

* * *

The world felt utterly quiet when he woke up. Allen opened his eyes, staring up into the pale darkness of the nighttime sky. He distantly realized that the snow was starting to cover up the street around him, and it felt cold against his cheeks. His head felt fuzzy, like everything he was experiencing was far away.

He rolled onto his side, realizing that even though there was a puddle of drying blood underneath him, he had no wounds. He forced himself to his feet, frowning. His right arm… it moved. He rolled up the sleeve, noticing that the skin was a deep red with a little green cross embedded in the back of his hand. For some reason, he felt like his arm hadn't worked before.

He couldn't remember.

Three mutilated bodies were strewn across the broken stones in a mess of snow and human blood. Allen stepped carefully around them, observing the bloody mess someone had made of them. Father did this, he thought, and then felt a pang of sadness at realizing it. Father is supposed to be good, so why—

A pause.

Who is Father?

He felt something pale white and green with a name Innocence brush his mind, whispering for him to forget. It told him it would be too painful for him to remember everything that had happened. He felt tears come to his eyes, burning hot as they fell down his cheeks. "Father," he cried again, even as his memories of this person faded further.

Never stop walking, Allen.

It was the one memory that came clear to his mind. He couldn't even remember who had said it. Allen blinked furiously, trying to get rid of his tears. He needed to continue forward. He clenched his fist, feeling the pulsing of the gem in the back of his hand, and swallowed hard.

In awakening the Innocence, the memories of his past were being forced into sleep.

* * *

One Month Later

"What happened, Neah? The Order has been in complete lockdown for a month."

A static-y sigh came through the phone. "If Mana knew I was talking to you, he'd kill me." Cross frowned. Neah Campbell didn't sound like he was kidding.

"Half of their exorcists in the England branch were killed in a single night four weeks ago," the red-haired man said, "and more akuma than ever before are walking the streets. I don't know whether to stay in hiding or follow through on the missions they're giving me."

Another long beat of silence followed. Cross closed his eyes, trying to not grow irritated. He had known Neah for a long time, and he knew his friend deserved some benefit of doubt. "Mana had a kid," the Campbell said, his words careful and slow. "He was killed by Black Order exorcists."

Cross swore. "Neah, I—" he fell silent again. "I'm sorry." The words were shallowly inefficient to describe how he felt. The Black Order was a craphole of an organization, and Cross hated to be associated with them. If he didn't have Innocence, he would have stayed far, far away from them.

"Lay low for now. Mana's declared all-out war on the Black Order, and the rest of the Noah are right behind him. Do whatever you feel you need to for the Holy War, but don't let Mana catch you. He won't hesitate in killing any exorcist he finds." His friend's voice was nearly a monotone. Cross' hand tightened around the receiver, realizing just how much the loss of Neah's nephew must've been hurting him.

"I will. What you're describing— Mana was the gentlest of you all. I don't understand how he could have changed this much." Mana D. Campbell was the ever-loving, kind brother, and in the few times Cross had met him, he'd seemed to harbor no ill-will. Towards anyone, even with his role as the Millennium Earl.

He caught the sound of Neah's heavy breath. "My nephew… he was only four years old." His voice became choked. "I think it's better if we don't talk for a while. Goodbye, Cross."

The line clicked. Cross set the receiver back in place, his red eyes dark and heavy. Goodbye, my old friend.

This Holy War was costing them all. The only way he kept his sanity was forcing himself into long missions, and traveling far away from the Black Order. His golem buzzed, and he glanced at the incoming message that was displayed.

Cross Marian:

Concerning England Mission Changes (Marian Unit Mission #1.07.80)

Changes as of January 4th

Possible parasitic Innocence wielder reported (location 51° 30' 35.5140'' N/"Southside Orphanage and Monastery')

Investigate and report to superior Komui Lee (ID ENG944). Deadline January 30th, of same year.

End instructions.

Cross shut off the golem. Another mission to keep him busy. Usually, though, reports of parasitic Innocence wielders were fake or misinformed. He didn't expect this one to come through either.

* * *

It was, in fact, not a false lead.

"You're here from the Holy Order?" the nun asked him, glancing up and down with distaste at his clothes and face. She would've been hot, if she didn't maintain that ice-stone cold expression constantly, Cross thought.

"Yeah. Where's the kid?" After another doubtful pause, she finally sighed and turned.

"Follow me." They went down a long hallway, with doors on either side leading to children's rooms. Cross could hear happy shrieks and sounds of kids chattering away. He shuddered. He had never handled children well. The hallway opened up into a wide courtyard behind the monastery church. Even though the stones of the garden were old and broken up, kids of all different ages laughed and played on them, heedless of their new visitor.

"He's right over here," the nun said, gesturing to a corner directly to his right. He turned, spotting the child she referred to.

A small, white haired child sat on the mossy rock. He absently flicked around some pebbles by his feet, looking utterly bored and alone as the other children played around him. His cheek was marred by a red scar that looked like an akuma's inverted pentagon. A curse scar? As he picked up one of the rocks, Cross sucked in a breath, spotting his arm. It was blood-red and oddly textured, like a dragon's scales. Set into the back of the child's hand was a glowing green cross.

It was Innocence.

The child looked up, sensing his approaching. Cross was taken aback by his wide blue eyes. They were rimmed with dark circles but as bright as the sky. "Hey kid."

"Hi," the boy said in a quiet voice. He stared at the strange mask across one side of Cross' face, but didn't say anything else.

"Do you know what's in your arm?"

The kid glanced at his hand, flexing the fingers. "Not really."

That's an odd answer, Cross thought absently, but continued. "It's a weapon. It fights demons. The holy Black Order would like to adopt you so that you can learn how to use it."

Usually people would start giving him weird looks at this point, but the kid only nodded. Cross only felt mildly disappointed in the calm reaction. "What's your name?" The kid opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. The red-haired man internally sighed. Is he retarded? "Well? What is it? You look like a gaping fish."

"My name," the white-haired child said slowly, carefully, "is Allen Walker."

* * *

Next Chapter: Ten years later, Allen Walker is already head-deep in the Holy War between the Black Order and the evil "Noah." The boy faces problems from all sides: he can't remember anything before age five, the Noah are bent on killing him, and he's having a ton of weird dreams about someone called "the fourteenth." There's also the issue of why some of the Noah look familiar. He's never met them before—right?


	2. Chapter 2

_**All chapter notes, update information, and other story-related facts are in my profile.**_

* * *

When He Comes Home: Chapter Two

* * *

In the hours before the sun rose, when no humans stirred and the only movement on the street was a flickering light, the Millennium Earl walked. He stepped carefully over the body of the exorcist he had just killed, ignoring the growing puddle of blood covering the rough surface of the alley. His eyes were dark. Shaded.

The other exorcist was barely conscious, the wall behind him streaked with blood from his head wound. His fingers tried to grasp the glowing Innocence in a failing attempt to defend himself, but it was to no avail. Mana waved his hand, and the akuma behind himself stepped forward.

"P-please," the exorcist whispered, his words thick and slurred. "M-mer—cy."

"You showed my son no mercy," Mana whispered, the flatline of his voice somehow more disturbing than any yell would have been. "I will show you none." Bending, he grasped the half-broken knife made of Innocence out of the exorcist's bloodied fingers. With one clench of his fist, it shattered into a thousand pieces. The broken shards _tinked!_ against the hard surface of the road, and then faded away.

 _Just like his heart had, ten years ago._

He didn't stay in the alley to hear the exorcist's screams as the akuma virus bullets tore through his flesh. Any sense of conscience he ever possessed was long gone. It had left when the Black Order had murdered Allen, and he was absolutely intent on never letting it return.

His son would've been fifteen now. Even though it made the painful memories return, he pondered on what life would be like if Allen were still with him. Would he return to the Campbell manor to find his son in the library, reading a book? Or would Allen be playing card games with Tyki? Wrestling with Neah? His eyes would be still be a bright shade of blue, his hair red and spiky and maybe he'd cut it short like Neah, and his smile would be big and happy and-

Allen was _dead_. It didn't matter how much he wondered what a fifteen-year-old version of his son would be doing ten years later.

* * *

"Sneaking out of the hospital wing again?"

Allen Walker laughed as Lavi imitated the matron, who oversaw the hospital wing and was feared in the Black Order for being extremely harsh. He and Kanda, another exorcist, had gotten back from a mission a few days ago, and were still recovering from their injuries. Kanda, a few feet down the bench, shot both of them irritated looks.

"I might be." Allen yawned, still feeling tired. Maybe he should've stayed in his hospital bed like the matron wanted.

"How's the soba?" the bookman asked Kanda, playfully flicking a napkin at the Japanese man.

"I'll put you into the sickbay too, idiot." That was a usual reply from Kanda. Allen tucked into his own lunch, easily scarfing down several sandwiches and glasses of lemonade.

He and Kanda had gone on a mission to find an Innocence that was inside of a doll, granting the doll long life and a human personality. The place where the doll was had been overrun with akuma, who had been looking for the exact same thing. Both Allen and Kanda had been seriously wounded, but had been able to bring the crystal back.

The large dining hall was filled with chattering conversations from the many Finders and exorcists there. Allen quickly finished his meal, but didn't move from his spot at the table, enjoying the company. He'd been at the order for about a year, give or take some months. It had been utterly intimidating to walk up to the front of the immense, dark structure and present himself as "Allen Walker, exorcist." His master hadn't told him much about the European headquarters or the Holy Order before knocking Allen out with a hammer and leaving him with a crude map to get to the place.

 _"As an exorcist, you would be found by them eventually," Cross had said, his single red eye peering at Allen with intense seriousness. "But know this, my pupil, they are not Holy. No matter what they say. There are more sides to this war, and none are innocent."_

Allen still wasn't sure what his master had meant. Everyone had been wonderfully nice to him at the Black Order. What did he mean about "more sides?" The only other side of the Holy War was the akuma and the mysterious person who created them, the Millennium Earl. The Noah side of things were much darker than the Black Order.

"Allen?" A new voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at who had spoken from across the table.

"Hey, Lenalee," he said, "I was lost in my thoughts. How are you and Komui?"

"Good," his Chinese friend replied, sitting next to Lavi. He caught sight of the papers in her hand. "I hope you're doing better too. How are your wounds from retrieving the doll's Innocence?" Her dark eyes twinkled. "I just visited the sick bay looking for you. It appears Matron is missing two exorcists and she's not very happy."

"Wouldn't know anything about those two," Lavi said, winking at Allen and Kanda.

"I'm nearly recovered," Allen laughed, flicking a crumb off his plate at the Bookman. "Is there a new mission?" He gestured to the papers she held. Lenalee nodded, looking less happy.

"I know it's so soon, but you and I have been specifically requested. Komui will give us the rest of the details in his office." She gave him an apologetic smile.

"You've only been here two months and they're already working you to the bone," Lavi said, with a mouthful of food. He waved his fork at them. "Go. Kanda will keep me company." Kanda rolled his eyes, but continued to eat his soba.

* * *

The mission sounded strange, even by Allen's standards. A town in Germany had reportedly disappeared off the map, and every time nearby residents tried to enter the area, they would end up right back where they'd started. It was believed that Innocence was involved with the oddity.

"You and Lenalee will be traveling by train to the area," Komui said, his hands folded as he peered over his glasses. The intense-scientist look was spoiled by the mess of papers around them and the ugly state of Komui's desk. "I hope you'll be ready to leave by first light tomorrow. First priority is to collect the Innocence. I assume the anomaly will cease once you do this."

"Understood," Allen nodded. He flexed his fingers, looking down at the red Innocence-made arm. It had gotten him through the past ten years of life, and would serve him even further. "We'll be ready."

* * *

" _You got any parents?"_

 _The kid and him had been traveling together for about four weeks, and though Cross found kids to be annoying, Allen wasn't too bad. The five-year-old swallowed the rest of the sandwich he'd been having for lunch. "No."_

 _That wasn't surprising. Innocence wielders all tended to come from crappy homes, sad backstories, and bad families. Cross took another swig of his beer, observing for the thousandth time the curse scar along the child's face. "What happened? They die?"_

" _Father's alive." Allen paused, then shrugged. "I can't think about it." He scuffed his boots against the dirt._

 _Yet another intriguing answer. Not, "I can't remember" or "I don't want to think about it," but he_ couldn't _. There was certainly a long story behind Allen's response. "Where'd you get that scar?"_

" _I don't know."_

" _Do you know anything, brat?"_

 _Allen frowned at him. "That's not nice."_

" _Life isn't nice, kid. You'd better get used to it."_

 _A five year old with Innocence. Cross toss his empty beer bottle into the thrushes of grass, swearing internally. He didn't have much a conscience, for sure, but something balked in him at forcing a little kid to go through exorcist training. The Holy War was messed up. Dang messed up._

 _Innocence was even more so. The crystals that the Order hunted caused extreme pain to anyone who used them, whether or not that person was their Wielder. To cause that much pain to a little kid…. It gave his heart a stupid pang._

" _Do'ya know how to use that arm of yours?" Cross questioned, wondering if Allen had ever even activated._

" _No." The boy looked thoughtful. "Master said it was a weapon?"_

He knows nothing _, Cross thought._ This'll be a pain.

* * *

 _It had taken Mana D. Campbell six months to finally open up. Six months to break down and tell them about his son, and everything that had happened._

 _Neah's brother would disappear for days without any mention to his Noah siblings of where he was going. He would return at late hours of the night and early morning, usually covered in blood and grime, and would leave the manor again before the sun rose. Those months had been the darkest time Neah could remember. The shadows underneath Mana's eyes were dark and heavy, and his hands would shake whenever he spoke. His brother's face, normally bright and happy with his glittering blue eyes- was dark. He hadn't stopped staying in his Noah form since… well, since that night in December._

 _Finally, Neah and his family had intervened. On a night when Mana returned before midnight (a rare occasion), they'd cornered him and forced him to sit, to listen. The glare he'd given Neah had no love in it anymore, and it made Neah shiver. Still, the other brother pressed on._

 _"You can't keep this up," he told Mana. "We all miss Allen too."_

 _"You know nothing of my son," Mana had hissed, his words biting venom, tinged with deep undercurrents of paint and regret. Neah had closed his eyes, breathing deeply._

 _"Tim," he called, quietly. The golem projected the last message from Allen, something they had never shown Mana. Neah himself had watched the message over and over, memorizing every detail of his nephew's face until the small child's visage was imprinted in his heart. The Millennium Earl stared in open shock at the projection of his son. Slowly, tears began to form in his eyes._

 _"We miss him too," Neah repeated, fighting back tears of his own even though he_ never _cried_ _. "But you can't let his death tear our family apart. We need you." His words felt stupid and clumsy, but he didn't know how else to express the feelings they all felt_

 _"You're our big brother," Road said, sitting next to Mana on the couch and wrapping her small arms around him. Mana closed his eyes, his shoulders beginning to shake. Neah knelt in front of the couch, taking his brother's hand._

 _"Allen loved you. He wouldn't want you to continue hurting yourself like this."_

 _"I-I know," Mana breathed. "My family, I-I am so sorry." He looked at the other Noah apostles, the facade of cold anger and stoic emotion falling apart. "How could I have neglected you so?"_

 _The message restarted again._ "Birpy, are you recording? Okay, good," _Allen's cute child voice called through the video._

 _"He was a wonderful child," the Earl said, his fingers tightening around Neah's. "I-I- I wasn't able to give him a proper burial. I wanted to, but his body was_ — _Everything was burnt_ — _" He bent his head, overcome by emotion. Neah's throat tightened and he felt his own eyes burn._

 _The loss was immense. He hadn't even met the little, newest family member, and still the death of Allen cut him to the very core. All the things that might have been, all the things they could've done together_ — _were lost in that one night six months ago._

 _"Tell us about him," Tyki said quietly, from where he sat. "About your son. We don't know much, and it'll help you feel better." Neah nodded, looking back up at his brother._

 _Mana took in a deep breath, trying his best to quell the tears that wouldn't stop flowing. "Allen.." He laughed, sounding more like a choked sob, ".. was incredibly sassy. Worse than you Neah. He…"_

 _The hours of the night and early morning passed by, and not one of them moved from the living room. The stories and words Mana told of the littlest Campbell family member were written into their hearts. It was only when the rays of the sun brushed the windows that Mana finished speaking, utterly spent._

 _Neah could catch only a glimpse of a smile pulling at his brother's mouth. The Mana he loved was still there._

 _But he knew, with Allen dead, that his brother could never be the same._

* * *

" _Master, my arm is stuck."_

 _Cross, not even bothering to disguise his shock, stared at the gigantic white claw sticking out of Allen where his arm should be. The claw was twice the size of the six-year-old, for heaven's sake. It was caught in a brick wall of the alley they'd been walking down before two akuma had attacked Cross._

" _W-when did you activate it?!" Cross said, swearing. He'd been so focused on shooting the akuma in front of his face that he'd kinda forgotten about the small child he was supposed to be taking care of._

" _It was an accident," Allen said, like that explained it. "I saw the akuma and then my arm went 'boom!'"_

 _Cross stepped over the gigantic dead machine body of the akuma he'd killed, taking stock of the situation Allen was in. A foot away from the claw stuck in the wall was a smoldering akuma corpse, still half-inside a human shell. "You_ saw _the akuma?"_

" _Yes," the boy said, his voice trailing off nervously as he saw Cross' expression. "M-Master? What is wrong?"_

" _The akuma was disguised as a man. How did you know to activate and kill it?"_

 _Allen bit his lip. "I-I just knew."_

" _In the way it moved? Did it say anything? How did you know?" Cross repeated, more demanding. The boy sniffled._

" _I just knew!" he said, and then burst into tears. The huge white claw deactivated into his normal hand and he buried his face into his arms._

 _Cross sighed, realizing he'd probably pushed the boy too far. It was the first time Allen had activated his Innocence in the entire year they'd spent together. Still_ —how did he know it was an akuma? _Exorcists spent entire lifetimes fighting the monsters and still were unable to detect them in human shells. Cross himself only had about a 5/10 accuracy when dealing with it. He's just a child._

" _Brat," Cross said, "stop crying. You're fine. Good- good job."_

 _Allen lifted his teary face, staring at Cross in disbelief. The red-haired man winced internally. Was that the first time he'd given the kid praise? "You activated your Innocence weapon, so… yeah. That's great." Allen wiped his runny nose, a smile breaking across his features._

" _Th-thank you, Master."_

* * *

 _In his dream, the dark figure was there again. Allen sat on a piece of the stone rubble, the broken surroundings familiar to him. He'd had this dream a thousand times._

 _"Soon," the figure behind him spoke. Allen absently flicked some broken pebbles into the dark water below them._

 _"You say that every time," he muttered under his breath. "These dreams are getting tiring."_

 _"Soon," it repeated. Allen turned his head, watching the humanoid figure. It never moved, only stood there, the wisps of its shadowy body flicking away and disappearing. The moon, low and heavy in the black sky, shed white light over everything and made his Innocence glow._

 _He turned back to the water. It was no use talking with the strange thing. It never did anything except occupy his mind. He didn't even know what to call it. There was a pause of silence._

 _"The fourteenth," it said, the new words startling him. He spun , feet slipping on the stone, catching himself before he fell. "What?"_

 _"The fourteenth." The white-haired boy stared, his blue eyes wide._

 _"Is that your name?"_

 _"The fourteen-"_

Allen was jolted awake with a harsh bump of the train over uneven tracks. Across from him, Lenalee smiled apologetically. "You haven't been getting much sleep?"

"About the same as usual," the white-haired boy said, wiping the grime from his eyes. Unless one looked closely, they wouldn't notice the dark circles underneath his blue eyes. The scar usually distracted from the pallor.

Lenalee pulled her jacket tighter around herself. "Sometimes I get nightmares," she admitted, after a moment. Her eyes were focused on the floor as she shrugged, evidently trying to make him feel more normal. "So a lack of sleep is normal."

This was the part of the conversation where Allen knew he was supposed to share something personal about himself. Except he had _nothing_. No tragic backstory or explanation of the whole curse-scar thing—because he couldn't remember. "I don't usually have nightmares," he said, his voice quiet. "Perks of memory wipes."

"Brother had mentioned that you don't have any memories of your parents or childhood?" He met her gaze, seeing nothing but innocent curiosity in his friend's eyes.

Allen focused on the passing scenery of the wilderness and occasional houses. "I don't," he said, fingers playing with the fringe of the glass window. The coolness of it against his hand gave him something to focus on, something to gravitate towards. "Sometimes I have dreams… but when I wake up I can't remember anything. Never any nightmares." He glanced nervously at the Chinese girl. "That's about all there is to my backstory. I mean, you already know about Master Cross."

She laughed. "I think everyone in the Black Order knows about Cross Marian." Leaning forward, she paused, and then spoke again. "Do you ever wonder about your parents?"

How could he explain to her that he did, but he _didn't_. Every time he tried to think about what his mother or father would look like, his head began to pound and his stomach grew sick. Each minute he tried in vain to recall something, _anything_ , was rewarded by lightheadedness and a strong sense of _**wrongdon'twrongno**_. There had even been several occurrences when he was younger where Cross had inquired of his past and Allen had actually fainted.

It was more than just the forgetfulness that young children had. His memories had been purposely, thoroughly removed.

"Sometimes," he said, and left it at that.

* * *

" _Awww, is that your child?" The woman sitting in his lap pointed to Allen, who was asleep with his cheek squished up on the bar's marble counter. "He's so cute."_

 _The woman on the other side of Cross giggled. "He's drooling! What a cute kid."_

" _He's not mine," Cross growled, annoyed at the sudden mood change. "He's just an apprentice of mine."_

 _Allen's small hands were still holding onto his glass of milk, and he'd fallen asleep while drinking. The other occupants of the bar hadn't noticed the tiny kid at the corner of the long counter._ " _It must be past his bedtime," the busty blonde cooed. It was, in fact, nearing midnight and though the seven-year-old was used to Cross' late nights, it had been a long day with several akuma._

 _Cross stood up, nearly knocking over the woman who had been sitting on him. "Ladies, I'll have to see you later," he said, sighing. He picked up Allen, who was small enough to fit into his arms without being terribly heavy. The two prostitutes waved at Cross, one of them winking._

" _Brat ruined my night," Cross muttered under his breath, along with a few other choice words that shouldn't have been said around a young child. Allen snuggled further into Cross' arms._

" _Don't kill them, Father," he whispered, and that was when the red-haired man noticed Allen was shaking. "N-no-"_

That is a messed up nightmare. _'Don't kill them, Father?'_ Heck, what kinda father did the kid have before he ended up in the orphanage? _No wonder the kid fainted whenever Cross asked about his family._

" _Brat," he whispered, patting Allen's back with his hand (rather forcefully). "You're fine."_

 _Allen sniffled in his sleep. Cross swore to kingdom come that heaven help if he got snot on my jacket_ —

* * *

Their stop came a few hours later. Out the window was the small, insignificant train station, with a large wall several meters further behind it. He grabbed his trunk from the overhead bar and followed Lenalee out of the cabin. The passengers in the other parts of the train gave him odd glances through the small windows in the sliding doors, but he ignored them. His white hair, scar, and weapon-arm would never cease to bring him extra attention.

They were the only ones getting off at that stop. The two walked through the deserted station, stopping at the entrance that led into the city. "It's the correct town," Lenalee verified, reading the little wooden sign next to the doorway. "Our "rewinding town.""

"We find the Innocence, fix the problem, and then leave," Allen repeated. It was always a little nerve wracking to step into a situation that might've involved akuma and Innocence, when they had no idea what was waiting on the other side. People tended to forget that he was only fifteen.

However, none of that mattered. They had a mission to accomplish. With a deep breath and a reassuring look at Lenalee, they stepped through.

* * *

Allen had thought the city would be a ghost town. From the reports, Komui had made it sound like they wouldn't even be able to get in, and if they did the disappeared town would be empty or destroyed.

The town was filled. People bustled around them, not noticing the entrance that Allen and Lenalee had just walked through. Kids laughed happily as they played ball on the sides of the cobbled streets, adults strolled languidly together, busy workers raced by. All the shops and houses along the winding street were bright and nothing appeared any different from any other city they might've seen.

"Everything looks normal," Allen said, surprised. There was no sign of anything wrong. "No one looks like they know that the city has disappeared from the real world."

"We'll stay alert." They both knew akuma could be disguised as anything.

Unsure of what to do or where to find the supposed Innocence causing the anomaly, the two set off to find a place to sleep that evening. The day was already half past when the train had reached the city, and despite napping so much, Allen still felt exhausted. He knew that to the Black Order, finding Innocence came above everything other priority. Including the health of its exorcists.

His watchful blue eyes scanned the streets they walked down, but it was strange. There was absolutely nothing wrong. Some people argued, some people laughed, kissed, hugged, talked—all very ordinary.

 _As for the presence of akuma…_

For some inexplicable reason, Allen had the ability to sense the Millennium Earl's demons, no matter which form they were in. If they were simply in his near vicinity, he could just—tell. He had never been able to explain why or how or what signs ticked him off to their presence to his other exorcist companions. The Black Order had done several experiments with his sight and blood, but hadn't figured out the reason either.

"There are two akuma several blocks away," Allen said to Lenalee, his tone urgent. "They are still in a human form, I think." When they reverted to the demon form, their aura became much stronger.

"That's amazing," Lenalee said, following him as he led the way down another street. "I've still never understood how you can tell."

"You know I can't explain it." Allen turned quickly down another street. "It's like knowing the difference between dogs and cats; humans and akuma."

"I can't sense a cat a mile away," Lenalee muttered.

"This cat just shed its dog skin," Allen swore, and broke into a run. The two demons' auras had sharpened into their natural demon form, which meant they had either killed someone or were about to.

He spotted the akuma before they saw him and Lenalee. Activating his Innocence, he stepped forward. They were both only level two, but Allen's stomach dropped into his shoes when he saw that they had a young woman pinned against the dirtied walls of the alley. _Still alive_ , thank heavens, but only if they could exorcise the akuma in time. "Claw," he whispered. Next to him, Lenalee's Dark Boots glowed with a green luminescence. The akuma turned, smelling the God Crystal too late. Allen cut through the machine-demon with a single slice from his right arm before a word ever left its mouth.

"Exorcists!" the other screamed, and released the young woman. As she fell, Lenalee raced forward and caught her before her head could hit the ground. Allen finished off the second one.

"She hasn't been hit by any bullets," Lenalee gasped, grateful. Allen deactivated his weapon, feeling glad for yet another ability he had. Immunity to any poison the akuma released.

"Are you alright?" he asked the young woman, whom Lenalee had released. She stared up at him, and instead of the relief or safety he expected, her eyes were filled with shock, the same way she had looked at the akuma. "You—How are you here?"

"What do you mean? Are you okay?" he asked again, confused. One of her knees was scraped on the stone of the road, and the tie around her neck was coming loose.

"I'm fine," she whispered, and then burst into tears.

* * *

Her name was Miranda Lotto and for the past month her town had repeated the same day over and over. Allen and Lenalee sat in the young women's small apartment, listening in disbelief as she explained the situation. Her tears had been quelled, but she still glanced nervously around as if they would be attacked at any moment.

"N-No one else knows that it's happening," she sniffed, eyes red with tears. "I thought I was going crazy until I saw you today, after those monsters grabbed me."

As Lenalee comforted Miranda, Allen looked curiously around the apartment. _What an insane situation_. _There must be some reason that she's the only one who hasn't been affected,_ he thought. There were no signs of anything supernatural in her living space, although he knew Innocence could take the form of anything. She was also the only one in the town, apparently, who the akuma had attacked.

"Did anything odd happen on the first October eighth?" Lenalee asked. Allen turned his attention back to the weeping woman. She shook her head.

"I've just been looking for a new job, so I try to get one with the theatre. My neighbors fight, some boys kick a ball and splash me, the man on 4th street tries to sell stale bread…" she burst into tears again, "and I still can't get a jobbb!"

 _If there is Innocence involved, she's most likely the accommodator_ , he thought. Although the thought of the sad, nervous young woman fighting akuma seemed strange. But then, he knew better than anyone that people could change.

Sensing that they were both waiting for more of explanation, Miranda swallowed hard. "I.. I did wish that something would change and I wouldn't be so useless," she said quietly. "Since that was the 100th job I've been fired from."

"Maybe since we're now here, something has changed?" Lenalee wondered. "Do you think it would go back to normal now? The akuma have been killed." The woman wrung her hands, giving a partial nod.

"P-perhaps," she said, biting her lip. "You said you are… exorcists? And those demons are akuma? Do you think I'm a demon to have caused this?"

"Quite the opposite!" Lenalee said, grabbing on of Miranda's hands. "We believe this phenomenon was caused by a substance we use to fight demons, called Innocence. That's why we were sent here, so we could find it and then fix the problem."

 _Lenalee is being comforting,_ Allen thought, _but I don't think the rewinding problem is solved simply by our presence._ He glanced out the window. _Those akuma were small fry compared to what the Millennium Earl could've sent._ _There will be more._

* * *

 _The kid was eleven, and Cross knew that the time to send him to the Black Order for further training had long since passed. They were vagrant enough that the blasted European Headquarters hadn't been able to track him down, but it was only a matter of time. Every time he considered sending Allen off to them a sick feeling grew in his stomach. The Black Order was a dark, twisted place masquerading as a holy residence for those "chosen by God." They claimed to be pure, to be for the side of humanity and goodness, but in actuality the darkest experiments and tortures occurred within the headquarters._

 _There were good people, of course, who were dragged into the war by possessing Innocence accommodations. Cross knew that. His own pupil was one of these well-intentioned victims. He also knew that if he sent Allen to the Black Order too early, or with too little mental preparation, the boy would be brainwashed into the Holy nonsense._

 _The Black Order would jump on him like a dog with fresh meat, Cross thought. He tilted back his whiskey, feeling the cold run down his throat._ Allen is… far different from any exorcist I've met. Both his abilities _(an unusual synchronization with his weapon, being able to sense an akuma from a mile away)_ , and with his gentle personality.

 _There was something really, really strange with that kid. Sometimes Cross would catch him with his mouth open and temper blazing, about to make a sassy comment- but then, in an instant, the rudeness would be gone and he'd be back this kind self without ever saying a word. It was like Cross had only ever met a shell of what Allen truly was; the rest of the boy was locked away somewhere in his mind._

He's a brat _, the red-haired man thought._ But he's darn good at killing akuma.

* * *

"I think this color suits me," Neah said, playfully spinning the banana-colored coat in the mirror. "I didn't even know they used this shade of wool."

His brother didn't smile. "Hurry. I did not attend this shopping trip to cater to your whims, Neah."

A few years ago, Mana's biting words would've hurt him, but now Neah was used to it. He set down the suit, forcing a laugh. "I suppose. I'll be right out." When there was no reply, he turned and realized Mana had already left the clothes boutique.

"Your father is in ill humor," the clerk girl murmured, taking the suit he returned. "Is he unwell?"

 _Your father._ It was always like this. Neah glanced out the glass window of the shop, observing his brother out on the cobblestone street. They were twins, but now Mana looked nothing like him. Even though the Noah could choose their physical age, it often simply reflected how they felt inside. Mana had aged in the past years so much that he looked to be around forty or fifty, with permanent dark shadows under his ears and a five o'clock shadow. He never left his Noah form, so his eyes were perpetually a harsh shade of gold. His hair was cut short and was no longer the beautiful wavy mess Neah remembered.

"Yes, he's not been feeling himself for a while," Neah murmured. _Not since his son died._ "Thank you for your help." He winked at the girl, and made a graceful exit after the other Campbell.

In his sand-colored coat and loose necktie, Neah was a startling contrast to Mana, who wore a black coat and tall top hat, his face half obscured. The Millennium Earl was doing check-ups on some level threes stationed around the bustling city, to see how close they were to evolving. A level four akuma wasn't allowed to be around most humans since Mana often had trouble controlling their level of bloodlust.

"How many are there left to check?" Neah asked his brother.

"Two more in this city." Mana's voice was near a monotone. "Near a hundred across Europe, and more in Asia."

Which meant, in Mana terms, that he'd be gone for at least a month after that day. Neah groaned. "Can't you send Tyki or Wisely to do this?"

"No." Neah knew very well that if he wished, Mana could have. But his brother was determined to bury his feelings and happiness in his work as the Millennium Earl. Just as they were turning another corner, something soft whacked Neah in the face. He drew back, startled, before realizing it was one of Road's dream dolls.

"Road?! What are you doing here?" he asked the doll. It was lucky no passerby noticed him talking to the floating, slightly creepy plush. Mana stopped, eyes furrowed.

"I need an ark gate to a specific city," the doll squeaked. "The Black Order suspects Innocence, and our two sentries have been destroyed."

The Millennium Earl's hands lifted, and even though there was no piano Neah knew the melody he played mentally as he called up an ark gate from the manor where Road was to the city she requested.

"Do you need help?" Neah asked. Even though he had no real Noah powers, he was still agile on his feet and could take out an exorcist with ease.

"No, I think they've only sent two," the doll squeaked in reply.

"Kill them and destroy the weapon," Mana ordered. The doll bobbed up and down.

Neah's heart panged. It always did, every time Mana mentioned killing exorcists. Neah had killed and harmed many, of course, in protection of his family and the things he loved. However, even he balked at the outright slaughter Mana demanded of them. _Perhaps if I'd ever had a child who was killed, I'd feel the same way._ Yet, somehow, it didn't feel right to kill so many in Allen's name. What would the five-year-old, if he were alive in that moment, think if he saw his own father commanding for the death of non-offensive exorcists?

Again, the pang.

* * *

 _He was thirteen now, and right in the middle of another growth spurt. Master only laughed at him when he complained of aching legs and how his own limbs were too long for his thin frame. Very little had changed in his life in the past eight years. They had traveled around the world, he had become immeasurably stronger in using his anti-akuma weapon, but still_ — _he was the same. The dreams hadn't faded at all, but at least they hadn't grown in strength._

" _You're old enough now," his master said, putting his legs up on the hotel table from where he sat on the couch. "Haven't you ever wondered where the akuma come from?"_

 _To be truthful, he hadn't. At all. He felt like he already knew where they came from. Whenever he tried to remember, though, his mind came up blank. "I-I suppose."_

" _The akuma have masters called "Noah." The oldest Noah, the Millennium Earl, creates akuma from dead humans."_

" _The Millenium Earl," Allen repeated, his eyes wide. It felt like he had said that name before. The words were familiar on his tongue. It made no sense; no one had ever explained the akuma to him. His master nodded. The boy felt the start of a pounding headache the more he tried to remember why he had such a strong sense of deja vu._

" _The Millennium Earl has killed hundreds of exorcists. He is the one the Black Order seeks to kill."_

 _He didn't miss the way Cross mentioned the Black Order, as if they were separate from the organization. "The Black Order… but do you want to kill him too, Master?"_

 _Cross' single red eye met Allen's blue ones. He said nothing._

* * *

It was just after Miranda had given them tea and Lenalee had inquired of her past, that Allen found the clock. Stumbled through it, to be more exact. He had felt quite convinced that something to do with Miranda would be the Innocence, since the entire ordeal was centered around her. The old clock, tucked into the corner of the small apartment, was unseeming and nearly unnoticeable. A stray sunray had caught on the glossed wood, showing how clean it was compared to the rest of the decorations. When he had reached his hand up to brush away phantom dust, it had gone straight through and hit the wall behind the clock.

"Lenalee," he said urgently. Both females looked up from the tea at the sitting table.

"That's just an old clock," Miranda said, but then caught sight of his disappearing hand. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"I'm not doing anything," Allen explained, "but the clock won't allow me to touch it." He stepped through it to prove his point. It was like stepping through air. The clock, the God-Crystal, was on another level from him. On another accommodator.

 _ **Destroy it.**_

The voice in his head was sudden and unfamiliar. Allen took a step back from the clock, unsure of where it had come from. Was it the Innocence? _Why would the Innocence want me to destroy itself?_

He waited, but the voice was quiet. "Are you alright, Allen?" Lenalee asked. "You've gone pale."

"I'm fine." The voice had sounded so normal, but there was still something in it that caused shivers to run down his spine. It was familiar. "M-Miranda, where did you get this clock?"

"At the antiques shop down the street," the woman said, drawing closer. Her brows knitted in worry. "Are you going to take it away?"

An obvious emotional connection to the clock. Allen was nearly sure that the clock was her Innocence, but she obviously had no idea of how to wield it. "No, of course not. It is your clock, and I believe it is the God-Crystal we have been searching for." He met Lenalee's eyes. "You are an accommodator, like us."

"An accommodator?" Miranda looked down at her hands, shoulders hunched nervously. "For fighting demons?"

"Yes." This was the news that he dreaded giving, although most wouldn't understand why. Being an accommodator made a person's life a living craphole. Innocence was powerful, but it was an unforgiving weapon that harmed just as much as it saved.

"B-but I have no idea of how to use it. It's a _clock_."

"A lot of times, we don't know how to use our Innocence when we first get it" Lenalee offered in comfort.

"Is that what happened to you?"

Allen stared back at the clock, heart sinking. When Master Cross had found him at age five, Allen's Innocence weapon had already been activated and he'd had very little problems getting it to work against akuma. He was an anomaly. He couldn't remember the time before his arm was a weapon.

"It took me three years to understand the dark boots," Lenalee said. "I think Allen had to train his for several years, as well."

He said nothing to contradict her statement, although it glossed over the fact that he'd been an exorcist since day one. Stepping back to the armchairs and coffee table, Allen gestured for them to sit again. "Since Innocence is immortal but its wielders are not, a crystal can have been wielded by dozens of others before you receive it. Sometimes, we find records or information about past wielders that helps us to know how to use the crystal in this time."

Miranda kept glancing at the clock. "How old do you think it is?"

"Around seven thousand years." He quirked a small smile at seeing her gaping expression. "The last wielder may have lived at any time period, though most likely she or he passed away within the century."

"If you're up to it, we'd like to visit the shop that you found this clock," Lenalee added.

"Whoever wielded the Innocence before you might've been the one the shop received the clock from, which could help us figure out how to stop the repeating time problem and you to use your power," Allen explained, seeing more confusion on the older woman's face. He gestured out to the street, far below. "We're here to help, Miranda."

She returned his smile, relaxing slightly.

* * *

Road Camelot could taste the influence of the Innocence the second she stepped out of the ark gate Mana had provided. The green glow of the God Crystal was nearly visible around the edges of her vision, and its poisonous taste filmed her tongue. Behind her, four more akuma followed out of the glittering gate. Her shoes, bright and shiny, clicked as her heels met the shingles of the roof the ark led on. Far below, she could see ordinary humans passing like ants along the streets.

Would the exorcists have found the Innocence yet? Her mouth tugged up into a happy smile. It would certainly make things easier for her if they had. With the Innocence cloaking the entire city, though, it was hard for her to find the individual exorcists and their weapons. Her painted fingernails curled into small fists.

She would find them, however.

* * *

 _The Innocence and the Fourteenth weaved around each other in their host, an eternal cycle of opposites. They kept a careful balance in the boy, even if he was unaware of this._

Mine _, the innocence repeated to the Noah memory._ Mine _._

 _ **For now,**_ _the fourteen would reply._

* * *

The owner of the antique shop was the first person Allen had seen that greeted Miranda with anything other than irritation. He was an older gentleman with a large mustache, big glasses, and unruly curled hair. "Miss Lotto!" he called, upon seeing them enter the antique store. "How is the clock?"

"I-it's doing well," Miranda said, fiddling with the clock's winding key hung around her neck. "We came because we were wondering—the clock.." she looked at Allen and Lenalee, panicked.

"We were wondering about where the clock came from," Lenalee easily stepped in. "It's such a beautiful clock. Do you know who made it? Or who brought it to the store?"

"Hmm, the shopkeeper said, looking thoughtful. "Let me see…"

As they talked, Allen couldn't help but notice the beautiful things around the shop. It was bigger than it looked on the outside, and had gigantic, glittering chandeliers and lamps that lit up the inside. Rows and rows of trinkets and bejeweled household items lined the interiors, with larger furniture and paintings towards the back.

 _I'll look around for anything else Innocence-related_ , he thought, and headed deeper into the store. Around a corner were stairs that led to another level of the large antique shop. The windows on the south side of the store were ceiling high, illuminating the smaller second floor. Numerous dried plants filled big pots, circling several wardrobes that collected dust, and a big grand piano nearer to the windows.

He didn't see anything openly related to the Holy War. Of course, if the Innocence didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be the one to discover it.

A piano was a rarer sight in an exorcists life. They were common enough in the homes of nobility, but Allen had little experience with that. This was the first piano he'd been up close to. He tapped his fingers on the dusty keys, enjoying the off-key notes. _I don't think I've ever played one before. It must be an enjoyable hobby._

The wooden bench wasn't too dusty, so Allen sat down. An odd feeling was coming over him. When he raised his hands to the keys, his fingers automatically bent over the keys. A strange exhaustion came over him, like he was falling into a daydream and someone else was in control of his body, and wasn't aware of anything.

Allen Walker started to play the piano.

* * *

The notes caught Road Camelot and made her blood freeze.

She stopped, abruptly, right before the edge of another rooftop, spinning around as the quiet music flowed around her. It was distant. The melody was so familiar, though, that she could make out every sound.

It was like when one's name was called, even if the noise was far, they immediately recognized it. This music was something she'd heard often—a decade ago. It was the way her beloved Millennium Earl played the piano. _Before Allen had been killed._

"Miss Road?" one of akuma behind her asked, but she furiously shook her head, hushing it.

Where was it coming from? Her golden eyes scanned the streets below furiously, but she knew the sound was faint enough that whoever was playing had to be hundreds of meters away. The melody was deep, mournful, but full of life and emotion. Road landed on the street and continued racing towards the sound.

 _It had to Mana._ Didn't it have to be? He and Noah were the only ones who played the piano, and the style was distinctly the Earl's. _Mana is hundreds of miles away, shopping with Neah_ , a cynical voice inside her head told her. "It has to be him," she whispered, racing past more and more people, her skirt nearly getting caught on things in the street.

Just as soon as the music had started, it ended. Road drew to a sudden stop, desperately gasping for breath. "Brother," she gasped. It was an ache, a painful reminder of what the oldest Noah had once been. How he'd used to play the piano every night for them, the natural ability coming from the Adam memory, and how beautiful the songs had been.

"Are you lost, little girl?" A kind old man bent slightly meeting her eyes. Other people around her had stopped, wondering if she was alright.

"No," she said, even though she was feeling very,very lost.

Had it even been the same song Mana used to play? She didn't know anymore. Already, the song was fading from her memory. The Noah shivered, rubbing her painted fingernails a long her arms. It was only… a song.

There was absolutely no way the Millennium Earl she knew now could play that way. _Not after… not after…_

* * *

Neah should've been prepared for the second appearance of Road's dream doll, but he still nearly fell over when it popped up in front of him. "You're back?!"

"Where is Earl?" the doll said, and though it still had that ever-creepy stitched mouth pulled into a permanent smile, there was something completely different in Road's tone.

"Right over there, at the counter," Neah said, gesturing to his brother's back. The level-three akuma was wearing the skin of a flower shop owner, and Mana was currently engrossed in a conversation with it.

The doll watched Mana, silent. "Is something wrong?" Neah asked. He hadn't heard Road's tone that urgent, with its lack of playful childishness, in a long time.

"The fourteenth is dead?"

The sudden question brought up so many memories in a single instant that Neah had to force himself to breathe.

"Yes," he hissed, his own playfulness gone. "Why would you ask that?! You know as well as I do that—that _monster_ will never return."

"I'm sorry for asking that, Neah," the doll squeaked. Another surprise. Road never apologized. What had shaken her up so bad? Sensing his confusion, Road continued to speak through her avatar. "I heard someone playing the piano in my current city… I thought it was Mana. I misheard."

Someone playing the piano? Surely, normal music would not have driven Road into something so out of character. Before he could ask further, the doll vanished.

Mana turned around, seeing his pale expression. "Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing," Neah said, staring at the spot where she used to be. The fourteenth was gone. It had to be another fifty years before he would ever reappear. Neah had broken the monster's curse on himself.

 _ **I will return, and I will take what you love most.**_ The last words of that shade made him shiver. It was obvious what Neah loved most. His family. But the fourteenth hadn't been able to kill Mana.

"I'm finished," Mana said, and Neah nodded.

 _It wasn't the fourteenth who took my brother from me_ , the man thought. _Allen's death did that._

* * *

 _Cross watched Allen take out the several level-twos that had attacked them in the outskirts of a city. The boy was a good fighter, and even though Cross would never admit it, Allen was close to the level of a general. His synchronization was in the nineties with the Innocence he called "Crown Clown."_

 _Of course, he was still a brat. Even if he'd never said anything openly rude to Cross, there was a dark, rude side of Allen that Cross was convinced he was hiding. Seriously, there was something wrong with that kid._

" _Master! The akuma have been exorcised," Allen said, stepping carefully over the metal carcasses and deactivating his Innocence._

" _You're getting slower," Cross said, which was blatantly untrue, but he was tired and crabbier than usual. "If I was your dad I'd be ashamed."_

 _The boy sighed, used to jibes like these. Still, something in Cross was curious if he could get the kid to break his shell and actually get a real reaction from Allen. "But I guess I forgot, you still don't remember your father?" Allen stopped walking. The master poked his back, being purposely annoying. "Or do you not want to remember, that maybe your pa saw your sorry face and took a gun to his_ — _"_

" _My father's alive," Allen snapped, spinning around and slapping away Cross's hand, his blue eyes flashing with irritation. "I don't know what's up with you today, Master, but you can take those snide comments and shove them up your-" He froze, the words dying on his lips. Surprised at his own actions._

 _Cross felt just as surprised, because even though he'd been goading Allen into a reaction on purpose, he hadn't expected the boy's face to suddenly look so familiar. He stared openly, trying to figure out who he was reminded off. The furrowed brows, the slightly cow-licked bangs that stuck up, the shape of his nose_ —

 _It reminded him of his old friend Neah._

 _He hadn't noticed before, but when Allen was irritated, he looked a lot like the Campbell._ An interesting similarity, although I'm sure if I told Neah he resembled an exorcist, I'd find myself missing a limb.

" _What is it?" Allen asked, the anger gone._

" _I'm terrible at goodbyes," Cross said, after a minute. Allen blinked, not understanding. The red-haired man groaned. "Ugh. Hold still."_

 _He may have hit Allen a little bit too hard with the butt of his gun, but the boy would be fine. He was resilient._

* * *

"I didn't know he played the piano," Miranda whispered to Lenalee. Allen lifted his head, then froze, his fingers pausing on the keys.

 _I don't play the piano._

He stepped away from the piano so fast that he knocked over the bench, heart beating loudly in his ears. _I don't play the piano. I don't know how._ He lifted his head, staring at Lenalee. For a moment, his expression was that of pure fear.

"Are you alright?" the other exorcist asked him. Instantly, the silence was broken, and Allen sucked in a breath.

"I-I'm fine." He faked a smile, and busied himself with fixing the piano bench. "Did you find out about the previous accommodator?"

The shop owner came up behind Miranda and Lenalee. "That was beautiful playing," the old man said, staring at the piano and then at Allen. "Where did you learn to play like that?"

The white-haired boy waved a hand. "I-I picked up some things here and there…" he laughed, uncomfortable. "It's just a small—hobby." _One which I didn't even know I had._ His fingers still tingled with the feeling of the keys on them, of the music that he had played. Of the song that he had surely never heard before, but he knew by heart.

 _Focus_. "Did you find anything about the accommodator?" he repeated, trying to change the subject. If they kept asking him questions related to his newfound ability, surely his companion would notice something odd.

"Accommodator?" the shop owner asked, and Allen winced at his own forgetfulness.

"The person who used to own Miss Lotto's clock wasn't known," Lenalee said quickly, covering any confusion. "It looks like we'll be on our own in fixing it." Which meant, no, they still had no idea how to stop the rewinding time problem. His headache was steadily returning, but Allen mustered up the strength to thank the man and leave the shop with his two companions.

"What do we do?" Miranda asked.

"When we need our Innocence weapons to work better with us and obey us, we train with them and spend more time," Lenalee said. "But in your case… we don't even know how to start." The older woman became even more depressed at the Chinese girl's words.

"Maybe spending more time with the clock?" Allen suggested.

It was nearing the evening, and it'd been a long day. Only twelve hours ago and they'd been on a train. Now, they were stuck in a city they probably weren't able to leave, in a time that would repeat over and over again until he figured out how to fix it. _I can't even fix my own mind; my own memories_ , he thought bitterly. _How am I supposed to handle this?_

 _Don't stop. Keep walking._

He closed his eyes, taking comfort in the familiar voice in his head. It wasn't like the fourteenth's voice at all; this voice was warm, deeper, and closer. _Father_. On cue, his headache spiked as he even thought of the name. _Memories are off limits._

"Let's head back," he said, mustering the strength to smile and put one foot in front of the other. "We won't solve anything standing in the street like this."

* * *

She'd found the exorcists.

Her hunt for the mysterious mystic had led her close enough to their Innocence that she could detect the individual weapons beneath the city-wide aura. She crunched down hard on yet another lollipop. There were three companions; two girls and a boy. She could smell the Innocence radiating off the boy's arm, and around the girl's legs. The third woman didn't appear to have the crystal with her, but reeked just as much as her companions. _Odd white hair_ , she thought, seeing the male. It made it hard to place his age, especially since she couldn't see their faces.

"Mistress? Shall we kill them?"

The only question she approved of from the akuma. Road tossed the candy stick into the gutter, allowing a smile to spread across her face. "Soon."

A little bit of bloodshed always helped her feel like herself again.

* * *

"I s-suppose everything will repeat again tomorrow morning," Miranda said tearfully as she unlocked her apartment door. "Wh-what if you forget everything?"

"I doubt that'll happen," Allen said, following her into the apartment. "We have Innocence too, Miss Lotto, and we're outsiders to your town. The spell will most likely not affect us."

 _I think._ Allen didn't dare consider what would happen if he was wrong, and he and Lenalee forgot the entire day's events. He had enough memory problems as it was. His headache made it hard to sense akuma, and he kept feeling like there was something he'd forgotten. As he followed Lenalee and Miranda back into the apartment, something in the back of his mind whispered unintelligibly, like white noise across his brain. He stopped, surprised. The thought came again. _**This is not real.**_

 _What isn't real?_ He glanced around, suspicious, at Miranda's apartment. It was the exact same as they'd left it a few hours ago, with the furniture, clock, and sparse decorations. His head still pounded, he could feel everything like normal, so he couldn't be dreaming.

 _This… isn't real,_ he was the same feeling he got whenever he was around an akuma disguised as a human. Lenalee and Miranda turned, wondering why he'd stopped.

"Did you figure out the Innocence?" Lenalee asked, interpreting his silence as a revelation.

"No," Allen said, his voice barely above a whisper, still staring at the apartment. "There's something wrong."

A low laugh from the corners of the room echoed around them, making all three go stiff with fear. The furniture started to shift and morph, the shadows in the corners starting to stretch unnaturally across the apartment.

 _An akuma?_ Allen thought, hearing the creepy laugh again. It was the laugh of a young girl. Lenalee met his eyes, her face reflecting the same fear she felt. Suddenly, her eyes widened as she spotted something behind him. "Al-" Her voice was cut off as an akuma's long arm hit him, and she screamed.

The blow to the back of his head ended his consciousness immediately.

* * *

Road giggled at seeing the exorcist's pain for her companion's little _accident_. The white-haired one fell as easy as paper before wind, blood already soaking through his hair on the back of his head. The girl activated her Innocence, but the akuma was already too close and easily pinned her down.

The older woman, with messy curly hair and scared eyes, was even easier to grab. Without lifting a finger of her own, Road's dream world version of the apartment scooped her up and brought her close. Allowing the darkness hiding her to melt away, Road grinned up at the female. "Hello," she said, in a bubblegum-sweet voice.

"A child?" the woman stared down at her, horror leaking across her features.

"A Noah," Road answered, and then stabbed candles through the woman's hands. "Hold still," she said, ignoring her screams of pain as the candles pulled her against the clock-Innocence.

The other girl was trying to stand, despite a definite concussion, which was admirable. Road waved the akuma away, and bent down in front of her. She was Chinese, with wide, dark eyes and long hair. "That outfit doesn't look very good on you," Road said, gesturing to her exorcist uniform. "I think we should get you changed."

"Don't touch me," the girl hissed out between clenched teeth. Without saying anything, Road pressed her fingers against the girl's skull, and mentally twisted. The exorcist screamed at the mental pain of having her mind forcefully broken, but then fell silent. Like a doll.

"Are you going to kill them?" one of the akuma servants asked, glancing nervously at the clock of Innocence. Akuma were always wary around Inncence, for good reason. Their lives were so easy to end.

"Of course," Road said, surveying her three victims. "First, I want to play."

The white-haired one, she realized, was just a boy. The akuma hefted his limp body against the wall, where she pinned his arm so that when he woke up he wouldn't be able to move. His head rolled back, and she observed with surprise the odd scar pentagram running along one side of his face. The marking of an akuma. His features underneath the messy white bangs were young, delicate. She frowned, feeling like he was familiar.

But there was no way, because if she'd seen him before she would have smelled the Innoence, and she didn't remember anyone with a scar or hair like that. Except perhaps Wisely. His arm was dark red, with the trademark glowing green cross embedded in the back of his hand. It made her skin crawl, as Innocence always did. The Black Order was repulsive.

This exorcist, though… he was just a boy. Road was several millennia old, she had more than enough blood on her hands, but something in her conscious twinged at killing someone so young. Had he been brainwashed by the Order?

Of course not. If the Innocence, the cursed "God-crystal," had picked him, then Road didn't care how young or good he was. No one could've been as young or good as Allen Campbell, and he was dead.

* * *

 _Allen dreamt he was being held, like a little child. Someone rocked him, singing softly. "...then the boy fell asleep, breathing, flames among the ashes...," a man's gentle voice hummed._

"' _Mm not tired, Father," Allen heard his own voice mumble. The man's responding laugh rumbled through his chest and made Allen smile._

" _It's time for sleep and good dreams, Allen."_

" _Mmm… not.. tired.." Allen said again, drifting further into sleep. He wished he could stay here, in Father's_ —

Reality was harsh and painful. The room was cold and the wall scratched against his shoulders and neck. Allen opened his eyes, tears stinging them as an intense feeling of loss wracked his heart. He couldn't remember the man's face. " _Father's"_ face. Just thinking the name made his head throb, but he forced it through the pain. _Father_. It had been the clearest dream he'd experienced of his lost memories.

"You're crying?"

A little girl knelt in front of him, and it was then that Allen realized he couldn't move. His arm was pinned against the wall with candle-shaped daggers, and he could feel drying blood against his neck. The girl in front of him had golden eyes and golden-brown skin, with a lolita-style frilly dress. He recognized his own exorcist coat pulled across her shoulders. "Are you scared?"

Allen closed his eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears. _Why am I crying? I don't even remember_ — _him_. He needed to focus on the situation. "I'm not scared," he whispered. "I think I'm sad."

"Over what?" he could hear the sound of her chewing on a piece of candy, and smell the caramel in it.

"I don't know." His head gave another painful pulse, and he used to pain to focus on reality. To sharpen his senses. Opening his back up, he stared at the girl. She was… more than human, but not an akuma. Allen blinked blood out of his eyes, trying to see more clearly. The more he looked at her, the more she felt familiar.

The girl giggled, an unnatural, creepy sound. "I borrowed your coat." She stood, spinning around so that the sleeves of his exorcist uniform flapped around. "It's so comfortable! I can see why you like the Black Order."

"Who are you?" Allen asked, his voice sounding just as exhausted as he felt. "Why have you immobilized my Innocence?"

"I wanted us to get some time to get to know each other. I'm Road Camelot!" She inspected the top silver button on his coat, reading the tiny engraved writing. The Black Order inscribed each exorcists' name in metal on their jackets; the equivalent of dog tags. "Your name is Walker?"

Allen didn't answer. He stared around the apartment, or what was obviously a mere shade of Miranda's room. There was floating furniture that cast odd shadows and several jack-o-lanterns illuminating everything. He caught sight of Lenalee, unconscious, propped up in a chair, her outfit changed to a frilled dress. Miranda slumped across the room. With horror, he realized her hands were pinned to her clock with daggers through the back of them.

"What have you done to my friends?" he breathed, horrified. "You aren't an akuma, we mean you no harm—"

"I'm not an akuma," Road agreed, grinning at him. "I'm a Noah."

Noah. The akuma-controlling family his master had told him about, long ago. She bent in front of him again, her face drawing close to his. "Don't I look like a normal girl? And yet," she reached a hand up to release his Innocence arm from the wall, "you still want to kill me."

"No, I don—" Allen started, but then gasped as his own arm moved against his control. The Innocence activated and slashed Road across the skull before he could stop it, cutting through skin and flesh without hesitation. "No!" Had he just killed a person? His stomach felt sick, and if he'd had any food to eat, he would have thrown up.

Road lifted her head, and he watched as the muscles and bone reformed across her cheekbone and skull. Not killed. In fact, the blow hadn't done any permanent damage at all to her. Despite himself, he felt relief.

"My big brother creates the akuma," the Noah said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "So of course you'd react that way. It's a good thing we regenerate so easily!"

"I didn't want to," he gasped, feeling drops of her blood against his skin. "The Black Order d-doesn't harm innocents. Unlike you." He gritted his teeth, imagining the pain Miranda was in.

The wrong thing to say. Instantly, Road's expression cooled. She gripped one of the candle-daggers in her hands, and he braced himself for pain. Meeting her golden eyes with his, he was surprised to see something like sadness.

"We weren't always like this," she whispered. "Tell me, Walker, is there anything you wouldn't do for your family?"

There was no way she could know how deep that cut him. He didn't _know_. A family—had he ever had one? Surely, but he couldn't remember. She saw the hurt confusion and misread it. "Ah, I forgot. The Black Order loves to take accommodators away from their parents at young ages. You probably don't even know what the word means." Her words rang true. Had he ever experienced that? "If someone in your family was killed in cold blood, would you seek revenge?"

"Noah.. can be killed?"

"My four-year-old nephew. He was a human, but the Black Order still killed him so that they could retrieve an Innocence Crystal."

He'd never heard about this. A guilty feeling inside of him told him he knew, deep inside, that the Black Order wasn't as holy as it pretended to be. "I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it. A four year old. That was truly despicable.

Her expression turned sour. "Those blue eyes.. Don't look so innocent of your Order's crimes." In one quick movement, she stabbed his eye with her candle-dagger.

Allen screamed. The pain overwhelmed his senses and his Innocence deactivated. He cradled his face in his hands, feeling the warm blood run down his cheek and into his mouth, tasting metallic and sick. It was so painful he couldn't think, couldn't speak. His thoughts were racing at light speed, and he only had one clear, ridiculous impression— _I'm going to have to wear an eye patch like Lavi for the rest of my life._ "No!" he heard Miranda cry.

Road's laugh was bitter. "He's not dead, Miss Clock. Just lost an eye."

 _I have to focus. I have to help my friends._ The thought of Lenalee and Miranda being hurt because of his failure gave him the strength to push himself to his knees. Road made no move to try and stop him as he stood. He wasn't sure if he could activate his Innocence, but he could at least speak to her.

"I'm sorry your nephew was killed," he rasped, his lips wet with the blood from his eye, "and I know you want to kill me." The Noah stared at him, emotion passing across her face, and he took her silence as a sign to continue. "I didn't murder him. My friends didn't murder him. So _why_ are you seeking this pointless revenge?" He was treading dangerous territory, and that if she tried to kill him, he would be powerless to stop her. "We came to this town simply to help Miranda, and stop the rewinding time. Not to fight you."

"Oh, my dear Walker, but I'm here to fight you. To kill _everyone_ in the Black Order," Road said, although he could see the doubt in her own expression. Even though Allen had no idea what kind of person a nephew of the Noah would be like, surely a four-year-old wouldn't want to witness the blood and carnage Road caused.

"Do you think your nephew would want to see to see you murdering people who had absolutely nothing to do with his death?"

Dead silence fell in the room. Even the akuma, who obeyed Road's every order, looked scared of what her response would be. Miranda's sobs had fallen quiet as she watched the scene unfold.

"You're different from exorcists I've met," Road finally said, her voice quieter. "I suppose—Neah—wouldn't be happy with me if he knew I would kill someone so young."

 _Neah?_

A dark voice in the back of his mind chuckled, making the hair on his arms stand up. _**Neah. We will destroy him**_ _._ Allen shuddered and tried to push the strange thought away. _I've never met anyone named Neah._

"Mistress?" one of the akuma asked, unsure. Road reached into her dress pocket and pulled out another lollipop. It felt unreal to the bloody mess of the situation to watch her unwrap the sweet, as if they were simply standing in a candy shop and not fighting. Her past anger at him had disappeared unnaturally quickly.

"I really like you, Walker," she said, and then giggled. "You're the first exorcist who hasn't tried to kill me once you found out what I am. I'm sorry about your eye, but I really did feel annoyed." He felt numb. He'd just lost an eye because the Noah had been irritated at him. "Since you care for your friends and family, I'll.. leave you." She set his coat down, folded, on the floor.

"We're not killing them?!" the akuma yelped. Road turned an evil glare on it, and it fell silent.

"He's my favorite now. If I kill him now, I can't play with him later." She turned back to him and gave him one last grin. "I'll see you later, Walker."

Then, with a snap, the entire room disappeared, turning back into Miranda's apartment. For a few long, silent seconds, Allen stared at the spot where she'd been, wondering how, in the smallest chance possible, she'd left them with both their lives and Innocence intact. _Why she looked so familiar._ Then, he fainted. Again.

* * *

 _Neah awoke from his nightmare with a jolt. He stared at the blackness of his bedroom ceiling, gasping for air and feeling like he had just run a kilometer. A slight breeze brushed through the open window. It must've been around midnight, and everything was silent._

It's been over twenty years _, he thought,_ and I still get nightmares about the fourteenth.

 _Nightmares about killing Mana._

 _In the Noah's history (which was, at this point, more legend than actual truth) 7,000 years ago there were fourteen brothers and sisters. The gods chose only thirteen of these to be granted immortal powers and watch over the human race. The fourteenth child grew jealous of his oldest brother, Adam, and gained powers of his own by using dark magic from the god of hatred. Of course, the other thirteen Noah were able (and forced) to kill off this last brother, so that fixed it. Except, every so often in the course of human history, the fourteenth's ghost would return and possess someone near the Noah in an attempt to kill Adam._

 _Even though he was technically half of the First Apostle, Adam, Neah had been mostly human before the Fourteenth's Curse had taken hold. Now, he was stuck with golden eyes, the Noah shade of skin, and immortality (not that he minded that part.. much)._

 _He shuddered, remembering when the curse had first taken hold. Mana and him had been only seventeen when Neah had started experiencing sudden bursts of strange magic, and an intense desire to kill his own brother. He'd sleepwalked, lost track of hours of time, and had trouble controlling his own emotions. The rest of the family hadn't known what was going on until the night Neah woke up from sleepwalking, standing above his brother with a knife against Mana's neck._

It's over now _, Neah reminded himself. The Fourteenth's ghost would be gone for at least another century, and could never come back to take control of him again. He sighed, flipping onto his stomach and hugging a pillow against himself like he was a little child again._ If only I didn't get these stupid dreams.

* * *

Allen was woken up by Lenalee's constant tugging. "Allen! You're awake!"

"Lenalee?" he mumbled, his face still pressed against the floor. As he lifted his head, he realized he could see. Out of both eyes. "What happened?" The room was dark, but someone had lit a candle so that they could see.

"Miranda figured out activated her Innocence," she said, eyes filling with tears. "I thought you were dead."

He smiled at her, grateful to see her awake and alive. "How come our wounds healed?" Miranda shuffled up behind them, still pale and wringing her hands. He caught sight of a gleaming circular object on her wrist. The Innocence. The old grandfather clock had disappeared.

"I think I can turn back time for our bodies," she said, sniffling. "B-but it won't last much longer. I'm n-not very strong." Allen could see how her forehead was shiny with sweat from maintaining the stasis on their time.

"There's no way we'll be able to get back to Headquarters in time," Lenalee said, standing. He followed suit, grateful for the newfound strength in his legs. "Or even a hospital. Miranda says the nearest one is two towns over." _Lenalee has a concussion or worse, Miranda's hands are run through, and I'm missing an eye,_ he thought. _We'll have to find some kind of doctor.. But could we even catch the train? It must be nearing midnight._

"Um- I'm so sorry," Miranda gasped, "but I think-" Lenalee and Allen both turned, but it was too late. The young woman fainted, and instantly, the Innocence deactivated. Lenalee's eyes turned cloudy and distant, and Allen stepped forward to catch her before she fell. He could see twin rivulets of blood running down Miranda's arms from where she lay. He tensed, expecting the excruciating pain from his eye that he'd felt before. The pain returned, and it _hurt_.

Except… not as bad.

He blinked, realizing that the beginnings of normal vision were return to it. Reaching up a hand, Allen nearly forgot to breathe as he spied his own skin. It was a strange dark-golden color. The same color that Road's had been. His eye was regenerating, like the Noah's body had done.

 _ **Heal,**_ the fourteenth's voice whispered in his mind. _**We have so much to do, little one. You can't break yet.**_

"What am I?" Allen whispered into the darkness of the silent apartment, his voice catching. "W-who are you?" The same question he had asked countless times, though the answer he already knew. T _he fourteenth_. He looked down at his hand, seeing that the golden color was fading from his skin.

There was a sound like cackling laughter, faint, but there. _**You are much better than any host I've ever had before. Return to your Order. The regeneration will only go so far.**_ Even as the words were spoken, Allen felt fatigue running through his bones.

As if someone else were in control of his fingers, his hands lifted and his eyes closed. A melody sang through his mind that he played on an invisible piano. A song of the only home he currently knew. The Black Order. A bright light shone through his eyelids, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a gleaming gate. It was golden, and had several glass-like sections that reflected a glow from within it. The Noah's Ark. Though he couldn't explain it, he knew that he had summoned a path would take them home.

* * *

Allen Walker was fifteen. He knew a lot. He knew how to exorcise an akuma, how to fight in hand-to-hand combat, how to protect his friends, and how the Black Order worked. He could protect civilians. He knew what Road Camelot was. He had met a Noah and somehow survived.

There were a few things Allen Walker still didn't know.

 _His past._

Why Road looked familiar to him, why he sometimes felt lost impressions of love and family and happiness, who the fourteen really was, and why the fourteenth was always laughing at his attempts to remember.

 _Who "Father" was._

In the moment before he fell, broken and exhausted, out of the ark, Allen Walker made a decision. No longer would he give into headaches and weakness and the pain that happened when he tried to recall his childhood. No longer would he be meek and submissive to his mind.

Even if it cost him his life, he would remember.

* * *

 _ **Next Chapter:**_ Remembering his past is easier said than done, but Allen still tries his best. Of course, now he gets more to deal with: the Black Order higher-ups' suspicion of him being able to use Noah's Ark, having to deal with a vampire (which isn't supposed to exist...?), and the fact that his mind keeps calling a random stranger on a train "Uncle Tik." If only the fourteenth could actually be useful, for once...


	3. Chapter 3

**When He Comes Home: Chapter Three**

* * *

Allen had completely planned to faint, dramatically, upon hitting the Black Order floor and then awake in the hospital wing hours later feeling refreshed and ready to begin his quest.

Unfortunately, that was not what occurred.

Because of her Dark Boots, Lenalee weighed double that of a normal girl and he lost his balance before he fully stepped out of the ark gate. Allen smacked his forehead painfully against the cold stone floor, vaguely aware of his nose cracking and shooting pains in his hands. Unconsciousness would be wonderful right now, he thought mournfully. Even Miranda, who had fallen somewhere to his right, was passed out in peaceful oblivion.

"Lenalee! Allen!"

Registering the sound of Komui's shocked yell, as well as the cries of other Finders and science division workers as they were spotted, Allen lifted his head. "L-Lenalee's hurt," he cried, though that much was obvious without him saying so. He blinked, his vision clearing with the sharpness of the pain in his nose.

"How are you here?" Johnny asked, his eyes fearful behind his wide-rimmed glasses. His gaze hovered on something directly behind Allen. Allen knew that the golden remnants of the floating ark gate must've still remained.

"Help them first, I-I'll explain later," he said, pushing himself to his feet. Dried blood caked the front of his coat and made the sleeves stiff, but he ignored any discomfort. _I know I'll heal. They might not._ "Miranda's hands, and Lenalee h-has a concussion, I-I think."

Someone placed a blanket around his shoulders, the brush of cloth numb against his cheek. Watching as Lenalee was lifted up by several members and placed onto a makeshift cot, he prayed that she would be able to wake. Miranda was taken care of right after. "What happened?" Komui said in a low, urgent tone, leading Allen to walk with him. "Who is the woman? How are you here? The town is over a day's train ride away."

"A Noah found us," Allen replied, his eyes tracking as Matron bent over Lenalee, testing for any sign of life. "It ended b-badly. Miranda is an accommodator, and the Noah discovered this." His brow was furrowed in worry as he thought of the state of her hands and how Road had stabbed candles straight through them. "The circular object around her wrist is Innocence."

"Are you all right?" Komui asked him, placing a hand on Allen's shoulder and making him stop pacing. The worry in the older scientist's eyes made his stomach clench in guilt.

"It's my fault," he whispered. "If I'd realized sooner—" _If I'd been stronger, been able to defeat Road or stop her from hurting them, Lenalee would be awake._

"Whatever you're thinking now, Allen, stop it," Komui commanded. "Lenalee is her own her person and you can't take the blame for whatever has happened." Allen nodded, fighting the burning sensation in his throat. Part of him wanted to run far, far away so Road Camelot could never hurt him again, and the other half wanted to curl up and cry. Everything was overwhelming. "Are you hurt? I thought your nose had broken."

"It's fine," Allen said, and he wasn't lying. The blood had stopped and as he probed the bone gingerly with a fingertip, it felt whole again. _Even though I'm sure it was broken a minute ago._

Komui couldn't quite hide the pallor in his face as he looked back to the hospital bed Lenalee was being laid in. "What did the Noah do?"

"I was unconscious, but the Noah—Road Camelot—gave Lenalee a concussion. With her strange powers." Allen wrung his hands, growing even more nervous as he caught sight of Komui's expression. "Y-You know who she is?"

"We know a little bit about the Noah, and she is one of the more prominent ones."

Allen clenched his eyes shut, fighting the strange, horrible memories of Road, willing his mind to stop buzzing with a thousand different thoughts at once. The contradictions that the Noah had brought were unnerving —her sinister grin, the sadness in her eyes, the way she'd stabbed him without question, the way she'd talked about her nephew—The bright lights of the busy hospital section made his stomach feel sick and head spin.

"Sit down," Komui told him, recognizing the signs of shock. "We'll go over everything later. You look like you're about to fall over." A nurse came over, obviously spotting the dried blood and dirt coating Allen, and fussed over him. He dutifully sat on the edge of a hospital bed, allowing people to rush around him and the other two wounded exorcists. "Get some sleep," Komui told him. "It's nearly four in the morning."

Allen nodded, although he made no move to lay down on the cot or go back to his own rooms. The hospital wing was bright with activity, and there was little chance he'd be able to sleep. He looked down at his hands, one normal, pale flesh and one sleek Innocence-black. They shook slightly.

He started noticing the whispers next. _"...glowing light?"_ was muttered to another, across the wing. There were so many faces he didn't know, making their words more foreign and biting and somehow worse. "…. _demonic magic_ ," another hissed, the notes carried through the noise of doctors and nurses and louder conversation. "... _notify headquarters..."_

Allen shivered, not taking his eyes off his normal hand. He turned it over in the light as if there was a chance some remnant of the golden-brown color existed. There was none.

The Black Order thrived on its gossip. Allen was well acquainted with the ever-present whispers about his hair, odd curse scar, and strange physical appearance. He'd grown up with them. He'd dealt with them. These new whispers, though... Allen swallowed hard. He didn't understand how, either. He had no way to rebuke them, to explain what had actually happened or what the truth was.

"Have you been checked over?" He jumped, startled by Matron's heavy voice. She peered down at him, her steel gaze surprisingly gentle as she caught sight of all the dried blood and dark circles under his eyes.

"Y-yes, I'm fine," he said. "I just wanted to stay and make sure Lenalee and Miranda will be all right." His voice tilted up into questioning tone, as he forced himself to meet Matron's eyes. "Are they o-okay?"

She nodded, although she didn't smile. "Ms. Lee has a very severe concussion, and the other's hands will most likely be scarred for the rest of her life. However, the latter is resting peacefully and the former will mostly likely wake within the next week."

Allen exhaled a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Relief made his shoulders feel week and his eyes fill with tears. "Thank goodness."

"You need rest too, Mr. Walker. If you wish, you may stay here, although I know you might value some quiet."

He nodded, trying to stem the flow of tears. He felt like the little kid he actually was, just a fifteen-year-old boy who'd almost witnessed the violent deaths of his friends.

"Everyone keeps whispering," he said quietly, staring at his boots. "As if they know what... how we arrived here." Matron was silent, and he glanced at her expression. "Do you kn-know what that was?"

"I've been with the Order since I was a child," she said, looking around at those whom he mentioned. "People will always gossip, child. Do not heed the malice in their tones."

"But do you know?" He repeated.

She turned back to him, and in the mess of noise her words were unnoticed by anyone else. "The Millennium Earl uses an ancient, magical vehicle of transportation to traverse the world in single instants. What you arrived here from looked very similar to its legend."

His heart sank. "T-the Millennium Earl?" voice barely above a whisper.

"It was known as Noah's Ark."

Before he could ask further, someone yelled for Matron, and she patted his shoulder one last time and then left. He sat on the edge of the hospital cot, senses numb. Slowly, Allen pushed himself to his feet to walk back to his room.

Noah's Ark? He trusted Matron's words, but didn't understand how something called "Noah's Ark" could have been the gate that transported them. He'd been the one controlling it, and he wasn't a Noah, or—

 _Or am I?_

He shivered, remembering the way his skin had changed color, looking just like Road's. Why did it do that? Does it have to do with the Fourteenth? He had so many questions, but there was no one to give him answers. He didn't even know if he wanted the answers.

The stairs up to his room in one of the tall spires were long, and the weight of his thoughts made it endless. When he finally reached his bedroom, the familiarity of it was a welcome respite. It hadn't even been a full day since he'd been home. Somehow, everything had changed.

He rubbed his eyes, looking towards the bathroom. First, a shower. Then sleep. Then he would figure out his memories.

* * *

Tyki Mikk looked up from the book he wasn't actually reading, observing Boric's hulking frame in the doorway of the sitting room. "Another nightmare?"

The man nodded, fearfully wringing his hands. Tyki pushed his bottle-frame glasses down on his nose, sighing. "Come and sit, then. Neah's here too, but I think he fell back asleep."

"'m awake," Neah's muffled voice came from where he lay, face-down on the cushions. In his white nightshirt and messy spiked-hair, he looked like a kid, even though he was over thirty years older than both Tyki and Boric.

Tyki stretched his legs over the armchair, remembering his own time of being a kid. He hadn't always known his Noah siblings, not until the day that Mana D. Campbell had invited him to join their family. Of course, the Noah gene had already activated in fifteen-year-old Tyki, so he hadn't thought twice before accepting. Now, he would die for his family. Even his ridiculous adoptive brother Sheryl.

"Was it about the scary marshmallow bunnies again?" Tyki asked. Boric nodded. The other Noah was often plagued with candy-related nightmares.

"It was worse, though, because they turned into even bigger bunnies and then Mana came and they made him be evil. He killed all the bunnies and th-then he was the scariest b-bunny of a-alllll!" Boric started to cry.

From the corner of his eye, Tyki saw the way Neah had gone still. Boric, unwittingly, had touched a very sensitive subject for all of them. "I'm sorry about the marshmallow bunnies," he said quickly. "You know Mana wouldn't eat them, don't you?"

Boric nodded tearfully. He started to chew on one of his fingernails, but Tyki gave him a look and he stopped. It was a bad habit they were trying to break.

"Maybe he would," Neah muttered into his pillow. Tyki's golden eyes flicked down to the floor, but he didn't say anything.

"N-no! How could you say that?" Boric asked, sounding hurt. "He's your brother!"

Neah flipped onto is side, facing away from the both of them like a sulking teenager. "Mana's nothing like he used to be, Boric. He's barely a brother to any of us now."

Boric started to sob again. "Neah, don't be mean," Tyki said. The sudden shift in Neah's mood wasn't surprising; the twin had been growing moodier and moodier the more Mana was gone. It wouldn't have bothered Tyki himself as much, except—Maybe Neah was right.

 _It doesn't matter_ , he told himself, but something in him knew that it did. Tyki had been born to homeless woman in the poorest village possible along the European coast, and hadn't ever possessed a father or siblings. His mãe had passed away when he was eleven, and the next three years were spent as a wandering vagrant across the mines of Europe. Then, his Noah genes had kicked in and he had faced the awful, strange transformation that came along with it (i.e. stigmata, golden eyes, falling out of his clothes when he couldn't control his power).

Mana had come along around this time. Tyki had ben only fifteen when he had been found by the first Noah, and had been wary of the promises that seemed too good to be true. " _We're your family,"_ Mana had said, crouched in front of Tyki, his kind blue eyes softening as he patted his shoulder. " _Noah never abandon their family._ "

He'd been taken home to the Campbell home first, and introduced to his suddenly huge assortment of siblings and an overwhelming sense of _welcome, you're not alone anymore,_ and it had been completely strange but nice. ( They'd even given him Sheryl and Road's last name, though he rarely used it, officially adopting him into a house of nobility. _Nobility. )_ Of course, at the center of it all was their Earl, with his easy smiles and loving patience. Though Tyki would never admit it, Mana was the closest thing he had to a father— _had—_ been the closest thing. Then, he'd disappeared for four years and had an actual kid and then the kid had died and the old Mana was gone.

After the four, nearly five years, Tyki had been twenty and too old to wish for a father figure. Any longing he'd had for Mana to return had been crushed, because of someone he'd never met. The kid who'd taken up Mana's heart, who had stolen their earl away for four years—It didn't matter. He'd died.

"I'll be heading out sometime this week," Tyki said, changing the subject. His fingers absently played with the card in his pocket, having not bothered to change into pajamas. Nights without sleep were common for them all. "One of the akuma on the inside has a new target." He'd already memorized the name that one of the akuma within the Black Order had assigned him. They had several spies throughout the Order than kept track of rising threats to the family, and the one he'd been given this time was _"Walker. Parasitic. Crown Clown."_

"Did Mana give the go-ahead?"

"Last month he said I could torture whichever exorcists I wanted, so," Tyki shrugged, "yeah." He'd been wasting too much time languishing around the house. "If I stay here too long, Sheryl will come and steal me back to the Camelot residence." It had happened before.

In the human world, the Camelots were a prestigious, affluent noble family. Sheryl presided over the house, and had adopted Tyki when he'd first come to the Noah family. If Mana was like a father, Sheryl and Wisely were his crazy brothers, and Road was... something like a messed up kid. Sheryl's wife Tricia was the most normal of al of them.

He hadn't visited her in a while. She was the only reason he still came to the Camelot residence. Even though Tricia was only supposed to be his sister-in-law, he considered he like a normal, sane older sister.

 _Maybe he would visit, after all._

"...don't want that," Neah mumbled. After a few seconds, Boric and Tyki caught the sound of his soft snoring. He'd fallen asleep.

"Big brother is tired," Boric said. Tyki found it funny that the huge man referred to Neah as "big brother," since both he and Boric were taller than Neah. Of course, Neah was the oldest next to Mana and Road. "He's been having bad dreams too."

"Sucks for him," Tyki said, rather unsympathetic. He and Neah had a very... hate-hate relationship.

"It does," Boric said mournfully, not catching on.

* * *

 _I will defeat you,_ Allen told his own face in the mirror.

He had been there for two hours, and tried various memory-inducing methods to remove the block his brain (meditation, push-ups, humming a manta, and now staring deeply into a mirror). He felt like a tiny kid, angry at the most ridiculous thing: his own mind. However, it was _frustrating_! When he was finally trying, with real intent, to get past his own mind block there was absolutely zero movement on the part of his memories.

He closed his eyes again, fingers gripping the porcelain of his sink, mentally exhausted. Still, there had to be something—he was so close. _Remember "Father."_ That had been the strongest memory-like feeling he could recall, so maybe it was the place to start and try again.

 _Warm hands, warm smile_ , his mind whispered. Allen lifted his head in surprise at the nostalgic, happy feeling. _Soft dark hair. Blue eyes._

He stared back into his own eyes, the same shade of blue. _Do I—look like my father?_

It was strange. He couldn't remember the whole of the face that his mind was blocking, but that one, single part slipped through. He beamed at himself in the mirror, pleased with the tiniest progress that the two hours had yielded. _My father had blue eyes, like me_. "Father," he said aloud, testing out the name on his lips. It felt, rather expectedly, foreign.

It had been two days since he, Lenalee, and Miranda had made a dramatic return from the Rewinding Town. Allen had spent half of the time sleeping, and the other half eating. Most of this had been done in his trying to ignore the whispers that followed him around.

His stomach rumbled at the thought of the dining hall, and Allen rubbed it with sudden longing for Jerry's food. It was nearing elven in the morning and he hadn't eaten yet, which meant he was ridiculously hungry. He grabbed his exorcist jacket and headed out of his rooms.

The hallways of the Black Order were ridiculously wide in its castle-like style, but Allen noticed how people still pressed themselves to the walls whenever he walked by. Not noticeably, mind, but sort of... to distance themselves. _"Noah-scum,"_ he heard someone whisper. His spine stiffened but Allen didn't allow himself to turn around, to show any sign of weakness. _I'm not a Noah,_ he repeated to himself. Noah couldn't have an Innocence weapon. Noah were cruel. Noah were evil. Allen remembered everything people at the Order had told him, how Reever had been adamant on their pure devilishness, Komui mentioning their insatiable bloodlust, inability to feel human emotion. Road had been cruel, torturous, and left him utterly defenseless to protect Miranda and he'd seen had confirmed what he'd been told.

However, the image of Road's sad face when she had spoken about her murdered nephew came to Allen's mind. He could still hear the soft, mournful tone of her voice. _We weren't always like this._ Wasn't sadness a very human emotion?

 _She stabbed my eye_ , he reminded himself. _Out of all the things I should be feeling for a Noah, for_ any _Noah, it's certainly not sympathy._

"Allen!" He turned, hearing Reever's voice. The blond man strode up to him, arms full of papers. "You've been requested in Komui's office."

"Right now?" Allen asked, mournfully wishing he would've gotten some food first.

Reever nodded, not meeting his eyes for a second. "There's some—visitors." Allen knew immediately what he was leaving unsaid. It was the reason Komui hadn't badgered him for paperwork on the mission from two days ago, the reason for the whispers and constant glances.

"Headquarters," he said, not a question. Reever nodded again. "I'll be right there." He hid well the way his hands had started to shake, but still felt suddenly sick to his stomach. _It's okay_ , he told himself. _You've done nothing wrong_.

The path to Komui's office, though he was three floors down, felt remarkably short. Allen arrived at the science division doors and, with a deep breath, entered. It was a flurried mess of papers and golems and suspicious-looking potions, as usual, but felt much less inviting than Allen was used to. The buzz of noise was quieter. More subdued. He glanced around at he desks, catching Johnny's eye.

"Allen!" The short scientist said, smiling with slight apprehension. "You're here for Komui?"

"Reever said there are visitors from headquarters," Allen said. He didn't miss the way Johnny swallowed hard, trying to hide his nervousness.

"Y-yes. I think you can j-just go right in." The white-haired boy stepped carefully around several leaking potions on the floor, and gave his friend one last smile.

"See you in a few, Johnny." The scientist waved slightly.

The aura in Komui's office was nothing like Allen was used to. From the moment his foot crossed the threshold, it felt like a heavy weight descended upon his shoulders. Every breath only made him dizzier, and it took all his effort to keep his face calm. The dark aura came from several men sitting around Komui's desk.

"...give the man over to headquarters," one of them was saying in a low voice, "and we'll be able to deal with it. There have been instances—"

His words cut off as Allen came into the room. Allen wondered what he had been talking about. As they all turned to look at him, he took in their appearances.

They were all older men, with graying hair and wrinkled hands. Except for the one in the middle wearing a military-like uniform, they all wore priest robes. Allen shivered unconsciously. The eyes staring back at him were like steel. _No emotion._

He had never felt so uneasy around a person before. The closest he could explain it was when a level-four had appeared in a mission when he was with Cross, and it had been so beyond anything human that there was no comprehension of feeling. The purest form of hatred, cold indifference.

 _These men are from the headquarters of the Order,_ he thought. So why did he feel somehow _worse_ around them than he had around a Noah? Road's aura had been dark, but nothing like this cold creepiness. He tried to hide his repulsion, forcing himself to meet their eyes.

Around the office were situated strange figures cloaked in red and black, with draped masks over their faces. It was subtle, but Allen could've sworn something in his akuma-sixth sense said they weren't entirely human. Which was ridiculous, because they had come with the leaders of the Black Order, who surely would know if akuma were nearby.

"Who is this?" the man with the mustache and military outfit asked.

"Walker, as per your request," Komui said. Allen had almost forgotten the scientist was there. The Chinese man smiled tiredly at him.

"This is the Ark-user? He is a mere boy!" one of the priests said, nearly spitting the words.

"I-I'm fifteen," Allen said, as if he wasn't proving their point. _Fifteen isn't just.. a boy,_ he thought, rather sullenly.

More stares. "Where did you get that scar, boy?" the same priest questioned. "That's a demon's mark."

The pentagram above his eyebrow and its long, trialing tail across his cheek felt suddenly more like a brand. "I d-don't know, sir. I've had it as long as I can remember."

Judging by their shifting glances at each other and increased frowns, they didn't like his answer. One of them ruffled through some papers. "He's an exorcist?" He asked Komui, as if Allen wasn't standing right there. Komui nodded, gesturing for Allen.

He pulled up his sleeve, lifting his arm slightly so that they could see the ebony-smooth Innocence material it was made of. The glowing green cross set in the back of his hand was a clear witness for them. "A parasite-type," someone murmured.

The mustache man turned back to Komui. "We will start the questioning. Has the Bookman arrived?"

"He is waiting for us in the room."

The questioning? He hoped it would be only that. Allen tried to regulate his breathing, keep his hands folded and calm. He wanted to have nothing to do with these dark men, with their emotionless faces and unnerving feeling of _**badbadbad**_.

He stood to the side as they brushed passed him, and followed as they walked through the hallways of the Order, their guards right at his heels. He could still feel the odd sensation that the strangely-dressed guards were't entirely human, but obviously had no way of verifying this. The scientists and Finders in the hallways parted easily for the men, but whispered scathingly about Allen. _I think I'm getting better at ignoring them,_ he thought.

They reached a tall, dark room with rich velvet furniture spaced throughout. Lavi sat in one of the chairs, with his master Bookman perched on the arm. The red-haired boy gave Allen an apologetic smile, which he understood. Recording was a part of Lavi's duties and natural Bookman existance, whether or not it involved a friend.

"Sit," one of the priests gestured to a wooden chair in front of the furniture. Allen sat, not making eye contact with any of them. He had caught sight of the several floating golems around the room, which would no doubt be recording his every move, every tick of his hand or the length of a pause before an answer. Even though he didn't have any serious secrets— _the Fourteenth doesn't count, right?—_ Allen thought, he still felt an inexplicable need to hide his doubts of his past and his abilities, especially when it pertained to " _Father_."

"Malcom C. Rouvelier, reporting in as the presiding agent," the man with the mustache stated to the room. "State your name, age, and rank for the record."

"Allen Walker, fifteen years old—" _though even that he didn't know for sure "—_ exorcist with a parasitic-type Innocence." There was the sound of one of the priests scribbling on paper.

"Explain the events of the Rewinding Town, beginning with your arrival."

Not an easy task. Allen took a deep breath, and started from the moment he and Lenalee stepped off the train. He explained how they had discovered Miranda, being attacked by akuma, and then later figured out the clock was Innocence. As the minutes ticked on with only his voice to fill the tense silence, he gracefully skimmed over parts like the time in the antique shop (without mentioning the piano thing), but when he got to the part with Road, he hesitated. They jumped on his silence with hungry expressions.

"What happened upon her arrival?" Allen rubbed his eyes, the low lights of the room making him tired even though only an hour or two could have passed. He thought of the way Road had shown emotion, sadness over the death of her nephew, and the blame she placed on the Black Order. There was no way he could share that with them. But how was he to explain why she left so quickly?

 _Lie._ Allen looked down at his hands, guilty at the thought. He was grateful to the Black Order and to lie felt like going against his role as an exorcist for them. Plus, Road was a _monster_ , all the Noah were, and to hide the memory of how broken and sad she'd been was ridiculous. She didn't need his, or anyone's, protection.

As Allen lifted his head slightly to glance across the cold faces of his interrogators, though, he thought about his first impressions of the leaders. _These men feel infinitely more wicked than the Noah did._ In an absurd, senseless moment, he realized that he'd rather been pinned against a wall with Road's candle in his eye than stay in the interrogation longer than necessary.

So he lied.

"When she appeared, she wanted to play around with us. To cause us fear. It was as if the Innocence didn't matter to her at all, or us being exorcists. She just wanted something to tame her boredom."

He could feel their gazes, the golems watching, and knew that any sign of dishonesty would instantly be pounced upon. "I was barely conscious, and both Lenalee and Miranda were injured and out of it, so once she saw that she couldn't have as much fun as she wanted, she said she was going to leave." _The ark is the hardest thing to explain, since I don't understand it myself, but—_ "So she opened this strange, glowing thing, and literally shoved us through it. I didn't know what it was but then we fell into the Black Order." To his right, he could see the stillness of Lavi's hand on his paper, and guessed that the red-haired man could tell he wasn't giving the full truth. Or, the truth at all.

"She gave no reason?"

"She said out that she was bored of me, but that she would send me home so that we could 'play' later." A partial truth. Allen kept his gaze steady, his blue eyes never wavering from the face of Rouvelier. The man stared back, searching for any sign of weakness. He, hopefully, found none. There was the sound of more pens on paper as the priest wrote another note.

"We'll have to take the woman to the Asian branch to be trained," he heard one of them say to another. "There's a shortage there."

His tone of voice unnerved Allen. The way he spoke about Miranda, not using her name like the way someone spoke about a mere _animal_ , made it seem as if exorcists were cattle to be trained and slaughtered. _"A shortage"_. He was beginning to understand why Master Cross had kept him so long away from the Order. Allen unconsciously clenched and unclenched the fist on his Innocence hand, feeling the quiet thrum of power that tingled through it. The heavy, dark feeling that came with the priests and Rouvelier hadn't left, although he had grown slightly accustomed to it.

 _It's strange_ , he thought, again trying to figure out why he felt so tense around the leaders of his Order. _Innocence is a pure, god-crystal substance that was given to the human race to protect our joy and happiness. Yet, these leaders appear to be the furthest possible from this. At least Road Camelot had the ability to laugh,_ he thought ironically.

Hadn't Cross always told him to be careful? He remembered how, in the final weeks before Cross had sent him in a suicidal journey to find the European headquarters, the red-haired man had said something strange. _"Nothing is what it seems in this war, brat. Don't give your trust easily."_

Had the Black Order earned his trust? He shivered. Allen had always trusted them openly, since they had given him a home, a makeshift family of exorcists, and a _purpose_. The silence drew on, and Allen blinked, making himself focus. Rouvelier looked ready for another question.

"Who are your parents?"

Surprised at the personal question, Allen was thrown off for a second. Didn't his file already state his past? "I have no memory of parents," he said quickly, inwardly finding it funny that he was telling another lie. "I believe I was abandoned at a young age because of my Innocence arm." Again, another lie. He knew with absolute certainty that he had been loved by _someone_. By Father. Even if he had no idea who "Father" was.

More scratching noises. "Where were you born?"

He stared. Did they not understood what the meaning of "no memory" meant? "Again, I don't know. My earliest memory is Marian Cross picking me up from an orphanage in northern Britain." He tried to not show his irritation, in case they grew suspicious. They already suspected him of probably being a demon, or something. Besides, why were they asking about his past? He clasped his hands, trying to push down his nervousness.

The next few hours were even worse. Question after question about his background, what he remembered, whether any memories had yet returned (that one struck close to home), over and over again. They would repeat questions to catch him up, and a few times Rouvelier would demand answers with a bang of his fist against the arm of his chair.

He hadn't eaten at all that day.

* * *

"Tyki already left?"

Neah slouched against the thick trunk of the ancient tree, gold eyes staring at the sky. "Yeah," he answered Road's question. "I think he was getting antsy staying in his "bad" form."

Stars, that kid was funny. 'Kid' was a relative term, he supposed, since Tyki was twenty-eight and had grown taller than him in the past fourteen years since they'd met. Tyki balanced his time between his "bad" Noah form, and his "light" human form (with those ridiculous bottle-thick glasses). He'd had a tough childhood and was homeless when Mana found him, but adapted well. Even if Neah would never admit it, they were close family. (Sheryl, though.. Now that was a _weird_ Noah brother).

He heard rustling as Road climbed up the tree to sit in the bough of the branch with him. She shoved him none-too-gently over, and he flicked her arm when she sat on his leg. "What're you thinking about?" she questioned, offering him a hard candy.

He popped it into his mouth. "This one yellow wool coat I found when I was shopping with Mana. I looked like quite the dandy in it."

"It would bring out the gold in your eyes," Road agreed, giggling like a kid. After a long, easy silence, she patted the tree. "Hopefully Tyki won't be gone as long as Mana."

"We'll have to go get him if he gets into too much trouble, like that one time in Portugal." It had involved a strong form of liquor and several dozen strip-poker games. Neah had scolded Tyki to kingdom come for days after that.

"Yes, we will," she agreed.

* * *

"Do you have uncles or aunts on either of your parent's sides? Were they ever involved with an akuma summoning?" The questions were growing more confusing and strange, and oddly specific. _It's like they haven't heard any of my previous answers,_ Allen thought, near dizzy with trying to keep sense of it. _Or they don't believe me._ The low light of them room made it hard to see them. "How many deaths have been in the family in the past twenty years? What is your father's employment?"

"I told you, I don't remember my father!" Allen snapped.

The questions stopped briefly. "O-Obviously I have no idea what any extended family is doing," he amended quickly, knowing with defeat that they'd already surmised conclusions about his defensiveness.

More scratching of pens on paper.

* * *

Tyki grinned behind his huge glasses, his mess of curly hair half-obscuring his face. As he laid down his hand, he could hear the audible groans and complaints from the other homeless card-players. The train bumped and rumbled over the tracks, but their attention was focused entirely on the game. "Full house." Some got off on the next stop, but more always came to play. It was a lovely way to pass the time.

Finding and killing Walker could wait a little bit. He was having more fun with this, anyways.

* * *

"Could I have some water?" The words rasped in his throat. Rouvelier's answering glare made him regret even asking. The man was looking at his file like it was infected with the Black Plague.

"You are able to 'sense' akuma?" he asked.

Another question that Allen had no good explanation for. "Yes."

"How?" another priest asked, his voice high and nasal.

Obviously they had read through the long explanation in the folder, which said that though dozens of experiments had been performed the source had never been determined. "I don't know. I see an akuma and I know it's not human, no matter what form it takes." He forced himself to meet Rouvelier's eyes. "I've had Innoence since I was very young, so I think that's why."

More whispering, unintelligible to him. He looked to his right, glancing at Lavi. The red-haired Bookman gave him an encouraging smile. Allen tried to smile back, but couldn't muster the strength. He was tired, and at his weakest point. Perhaps the men knew that, however, because they discussed something between themselves and then turned back to him.

"Mr. Walker," the pries to the far right began, "what is your connection to the Fourteenth?"

Everything inside him _froze_. He gaped at them, unable to mask his surprise. _How did they know?_ The echoing voice inside his head, the dreams that had stayed with him from five years old, and the foreboding sense of someone always _there_. How _could_ they know?!

 _More importantly, what could they know?_

"The f-fourteenth what?" Allen said, swallowing hard. "I'm not sure I u-unders-stand."

Rouvelier's cold eyes stared him down. " _The_ Fourteenth."

"I have not heard of hi—it," he said slowly, more carefully now. "Is this a .. person? Who is it?"

"That is classified," another priest said, glaring even more forcefully. "But we believe the Fourteenth to be connected to you."

"O-oh." Deep breath. "I-I'm sorry, I guess I don't understand.."

They murmured to each other. Allen heard the odd tones of Bookman whispering something to Lavi in another language, and wondered if he knew about the Fourteenth too. _Apparently everyone around me knows more about my own mind than I do._

Really, though, what was the Fourteenth? Even if he were to answer truthfully, how would describe the visage in his mind? A friendly visitor who's been there for the past decade? A phantom wearing an uncreative Halloween costume?

 _I thought they were investigating me because of the Ark_ , he realized. _Why are they bringing up the Fourteenth?_ His knuckles grew white with tension.

There was a sudden knock on the door. One of the guards opened it slightly, and Allen let out a long breath when upon seeing Komui enter. Another familiar face.

"Dr. Komui?" Rouvelier asked, his voice a dark monotone, undercurrent with irritation.

"Pardon my interruption. Lenalee is awake, and she is asking to see Walker."

Lenalee was awake! Allen felt a weight he hadn't known he'd been carrying fall of his shoulder. If she'd been permanently hurt, and it was because he hadn't sensed the akuma fast enough—It didn't matter now. "M-may I see her?" he asked.

He knew the priests would say no, but he was already standing and walking past them. "Walker, we are not done with our questions," one of them warned in a dangerous tone.

"I'll be back," he said quickly. "I want to see my friend." Allen was surprised when Rouvelier waved a hand, dismissing him for the time being. Lavi followed closely behind him.

"Are you all right?" Lavi asked him in a low voice as they walked through the halls.

"I'm fine," Allen said, which was a complete lie. He hadn't eaten or drunken the entire day, and had no concept of what time it was. "Just glad that Lenalee woke up." He'd seen Miranda a few times since they'd arrived back, but had been too nervous to visit Lenalee in her coma.

When they reached the hospital wing, Matron greeted him with a nod. He spotted Lenalee sitting up slightly in her bed. "Lenalee!" Lavi called, and she smiled, noticing them.

"Thank you for bringing them," she told Komui. He bent and kissed her forehead, then left them to talk.

"I'm glad he did come get us, it was getting stuffy in there," Lavi said lightheartedly, but Allen knew that Lavi was aware of how tense he felt around the Black Order administration.

"Stuffy where?" They'd forgotten, she'd been asleep for the past days.

"J-just in a questioning room. Headquarters had some inquiries about our mission," Allen said, not wanting to worry her.

To his surprise, the Chinese girl went paler than she already was. "H-headquarters?"

"Yeah, some old priests and stuff." His voice trailed off as Lenalee went pale. "Lenalee.. What's wrong?"

"N-nothing!" She gave them an obviously-faked smile. "I'm really happy to be awake."

Allen frowned. "If it's personal, it's all right, but— Lavi and I are your friends, Lenalee. You look like someone walked over your grave. What's wrong, really?"

The girl fiddled with her blankets, then glanced around them, as if Rouvelier and his strangely-dressed guards were about to show up at any moment. "Men from headquarters were the reason I had a forced Innocence synchronization," her voice dropping as she shivered. "I haven't seen the Black Order's leaders in years, apart from our generals."

"They _forced_ an Innocence synchronization on you?" Allen said, aghast. He was aware that Lenalee had been orphaned at a young age, but hadn't known how dark her childhood had been.

How could the Black Order _force Innocence_ on a person? Allen didn't understand; Innocence picked who it wanted and a wielder could never be the one making the connection. The crystal was its own sentient being. He'd seen and heard of the devastating effects when it rejected someone, so to risk that and force the weapon onto a person— Bile rose in his throat.

"After our parents passed away, the Black Order took me because they believed accommodation could be passed through bloodlines. I think nearly fifty Innocence crystals were shoved at me during that time, most of which the previous owners had violently perished. Dark Boots was the last one, and I finally synchronized."

Allen felt strange at hearing it, at hearings something so beyond comprehension that it made his head spin. He tried to picture the kind people at the Order around them doing something like that to a child. "How old were you?"

"It started when I was eight." Next to him, Allen caught a swear under Lavi's breath. "The European Branch— _our_ branch— is gentler, but we still must answer to headquarters without question." They both caught the unspoken message in her words. _The Black Order isn't innocent._

Allen remembered yet again Cross' parting words with him, how he had been warned of the mistrust and darkness in the Order. It was hard for him to equate the kind people he knew, Johnny, Reever, Komui, Matron—with the darkness of the men from headquarters. He shivered. Some part of his mind wasn't ready for that.

"I'm glad you're alright," he forced himself to say, trying to brush off the chills that ran through him.

"Me too," she said, smiling. "You look healthy! I was worried that the Noah would hurt you more since you were conscious. What happened once I was knocked out?"

"Ro—I mean, the Noah," Allen said, trying to keep her name out of the conversation, "decided we were boring playthings, and left us." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, having explained the events in full detail many times already. "Umm.."

"How did we get home?" She asked, missing his discomfort. Lavi met her gaze and shook his head imperceptibly. _Explain later_ , he mouthed.

Allen felt relieved when she nodded, still confused, but didn't question further.

"I think that's enough for now," came the sudden cold, scary voice of Matron. All three of the exorcists jumped in surprise. "You're tiring Miss Lee, and she requires rest!"

"M-Matron!" Lavi stuttered, plastering on a bright, fake expression, evidently trying to keep his cool. "Are you sur—" She gave him a death glare, and he shut up. Lenalee laughed and then smothered a yawn.

"Thank you for visiting me. I'll recover quickly," she said, waving them away. "Don't let get you down, Allen. I wasn't trying to scare you. You're a strong exorcist and the Black Order is lucky to have you."

Her words were meant to make him feel better, but he couldn't erase the feeling of powerlessness that Road had given him. Allen still had to walk back to that creepy, dark room with their cruel gazes and answer their questions and pretend like it was all right, like he understood how they could think he was disloyal when he bore the Innocence directly in himself.

He reached his hand up, brushing his fingertips across the demon pentagon. The symbol that marked him as something of demonkind. For the countless time, the white-haired boy wondered why he had it. _I have to keep working on remembering_ , he thought, _but I also have to focus on the present._

Something in him knew that his past, whatever it might've been, would not be shareable with those men.

* * *

The interrogation itself lasted four days, Each night, Allen would fall into his bed and barely remember his head hitting the pillow before unconsciousness hit. His dreams were fraught with twisted, contorted visions of half-memories. However, the fourteenth hadn't visited his mind since Road. There was no longer a peaceful moment for him to work on the block in his mind, though maybe that was for the best. All the questions about death and killing and extended families were making him feel sick.

On the fourth morning, Allen woke up in the still-dark hours of the morning. He rested on his side, staring off into the dim nothingness of his room. Every day the questions grew more and more disturbing. Asking if he'd killed an innocent person. If he _would_ , should it be required.. Pushing his synchronization rate as high as it would go, to the point where he felt dizzy and sick and could barely take a step without throwing up. Then, back to the questions.

Everyone else around him apparently knew more about his own self than he did. It was beyond frustrating. They had repeatedly asked him again and again, _"what is your connection to the Fourteenth?"_ He only could repeat his first answer.

Allen missed his old master.

The thought surprised himself. The years with Cross had been awful, violent, and involving far too much underage gambling on Allen's part. They had spent nearly a decade together. Cross, with his gruff demeanor and foul-mouthed language, had never openly spent more 'tough-love' on Allen than was required. However, he had been the closest thing to family that Allen possessed, besides his exorcist and scientist friends. Moreover, Cross had been wary of the Black Order and so perhaps he would understand Allen's suspicion—

He clenched his bedsheets, frustrated beyond measure. He didn't _want_ to suspect the Black Order of _anything_. They were an organization founded to protect humankind, and he was proud of that. Most certainly not _questioning_ if the protection part was even true. Because, if the Black Order's true nature was in question, he realized, then so were the Noah—

He didn't want to think about it anymore.

When Allen stepped outside his room, earlier than he usually rose, he nearly ran face-first into someone standing outside his door. The white-haired boy stared up into the masked face of one of the Headquarters guards. _A Crow_ , Kanda had told him the day before.

 _They're guarding my room?_ he thought disbelievingly, even as he gave an apologetic bow. Submissiveness and non-confrontational action were automatic responses he had learned from spending time with Cross. How long had the guarding been going on?

Did they really distrust him so much?

He shivered again, though the hallway was warmer than usual, and turned to go down to the mess hall. A gloved hand grabbed his wrist suddenly, and he jerked, nearly hitting the Crow on instinct. "Wh-what's wrong?" he said, the guard's grip so tight it was painful.

Before the guard could answer, Allen felt the sudden sharp twinge that always accompanied an Innocence activation. His arm was activating?!

Both him and the Crow jumped away from each other before the claw completely manifested, but not before Allen caught sight of the Crow's hand, a swirling, demonic mess of black metal and shadow. _An akuma's arm._

But the Crow wasn't an akuma. He stared at the veiled face, blue eyes wide with confusion. "Wh-what are you?" he gasped, without thinking.

The Crow straightened and dropped its hand below its robe, as if nothing had happened. "Classified. Where are you going?"

" _Excuse_ me?"

"Where are you departing to?"

Allen stared disbelievingly. "I'm going down to the mess hall. To get breakfast." As he walked, he could feel the gaze of the Crow on the back of his neck. _Is this why I sensed they weren't entirely human?_ he wondered. The guard behind him wasn't a full-akuma, that was certain, but there was something demonic in his nature that made Allen uneasy. Plus, the arm—that couldn't' have been Innocence or anything remotely human.

Why were the Black Order headquarters using akuma-related people as guards?

As he got his food, Jerry gave him an apologetic look at seeing his Crow escort, to which Allen shrugged, masking his own irritation at being followed. The guard was still standing behind him, making every other person in the lunch hall uneasy, but Allen was already used to stares. Conversations were more muted, tense. Even though he had barely eaten over the past four days of questioning, Allen didn't have much of an appetite for the eggs in front of him. He sat, alone. The Crow leaned against a wall several meters away, still watching him.

Above the muted buzz of the room, Allen caught the sound of raised voices. Kanda's voice.

The Japanese man, as usual, was coldly staring down two hapless Finders who had made the mistake of confronting him. As Allen watched, Kanda shoved past the two of them with loud curses and stalked over to where he was.

Kanda angrily at Allen's table across from him. "You look like crap, moyashi," he said, still glaring.

"It's been a long four days," Allen said, his tone even. He gestured to the Finders. "What did those two ever do to you?"

Kanda stared over his shoulder at the confrontational Finders, then punched the table, as if that would hurt them. "Pissed me off."

"That's understandable." Allen stirred the eggs around on his plate. At any other time in their lives, it would have been a normal morning in the European headquarters. _But now.. Everything has changed. I'm being questioned, the higher-ups are using questionable methods, and—the guards—_

Perhaps Kanda sensed that Allen wasn't his usual, bright-smiling self, because he relaxed the angry glare. "What are they even still questioning you on? Your dress and grooming habits?"

A half-smile was all Allen could manage. "They keep repeating the same ones over an over again. I honestly wonder if I should change my answers just to make it more exciting."

"They'd love that." Kanda had caught sight of the Crow guard, his dark eyes suspicious. "Is that—"

"Personal butler," Allen said, before he'd finished his sentence. "I found him outside my door this morning."

Kanda swore quietly, to which Allen agreed.

He lowered his voice, more serious. "My arm activated when he touched it. I think he's part akuma, although I don't understand why or how, since that would—could— never occur naturally..." His voice trialed off as he caught sight of Kanda's expression.

The man's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white, the skin around his eyes tight and furious. "Wh-what is it?" Allen said. "I didn't think you cared _that_ much."

"I don't," Kanda hissed. "But I'm sick of this Order."

"Why?" Allen asked, shocked. Kanda was always begrudging in his exorcism duties, but had never shon outright distain for the Order. "The investigation is annoying, certainly, but without the Order, humankind would be defenseless. We're the ones saving people."

"Do you even believe that, moyashi?"

"Of course," he said, but then realized he _didn't_. Lenalee, Kanda, Lavi, and him—they did save people, and the exorcists were good. _But the Black Order is not the same as the exorcists that dedicate their lives to it.._ The thought was an astounding revelation he hadn't wanted to have. The Black Order was made to help the exorcists and the hunt for Innocence weapons, but they were the ones helping humans. "We are," he whispered, low enough that Kanda didn't hear.

"The Black Order has a long and bloody history with human experimentation," Kanda said, his voice quiet now too. "I knew the Crow was a part of that, but I didn't realize that they had akuma-related experiments now too. If you're sensing akuma around your guard..."

Then he probably has akuma parts.

Allen's stomach felt sick, and he was grateful he hadn't eaten a lot. "Human experimentation?" The look in Kanda's eyes spoke volumes, and Allen guessed the an possessed a long past that he never told of.

"Be careful. Idiot."

* * *

That day was going to the last day of questioning, Bookman sensed. Though the questions and answers had all been repeated many times over, he had transcribed carefully each one with their accompanying actions and subtle nuances of expression. For the Bookmen's Records, everything was important and equally vital. The smallest tick of a person's hand could be just as predicting of behavior than a grandiose statement.

As he watched Allen Walker on that particular morning, Bookman noted that something had changed. The white-haired boy was hunched more in his chair, pale and tired, with the pinkish scar across his cheek even more apparent. Before, Walker hadn't exactly been happy with the questioning but had been engaged and involved. Now, he looked as if he wanted to shrink into a hole and get as far away from the men as possible.

"State name and exorcist ID," Rouvelier began, as he always did. The words in the room became muffled as Bookman focused on transcribing Walker's posture, his verbal response unimportant compared to what wasn't being said. He wondered not for the first time what the cause of Walker's shift was.

The Bookman knew of the Fourteenth's Curse, but found it hard to believe that Walker would be possessed of it. The curse appeared every century or so, and only with someone physically and closely related to the Noah. He knew of its occurrence fifty years ago when the Millennium Earl had split into twins (an event of which wasn't common knowledge), but even if the exorcist was related to the Noah somehow, the curse couldn't have repeated so soon after.

Bookman wasn't one to jump to a conclusion too soon, but he felt certain that Walker had no physical relation to the Noah. The boy had a scar that must've been caused by an akuma-related accident, and from the events with Road Camelot, the Noah hated him just as much as an other exorcist. Even though Bookman and his apprentice were currently allied with the Black Order, he also knew enough of the Noah from previous experience to understand that they were extremely close-knit, so to abandon a close family member would be out of character.

 _Besides_ , he thought, observing the glinting ebony black of the boy's Innocence-arm, _he's an exorcist. Innocence is the opposite of the Noah memory in every way, even if the Noah memory is rogue. There's a slim chance any parasite-type would allow the curse to live in a host with itself._

But, as always, it was important to keep an open mid. Things could still surprise him.

Lavi tapped his shoulder, whispering in the shared Bookmen language so as to prevent overhearing. "How long will this questioning continue? They ask Allen the same questions over again."

"Today is the last day," Bookman murmured back. "Have patience."

"They assigned me to another mission. I depart tomorrow morning."

He sighed. Having an apprentice who was able to synchronize with the Innocence was a useful tool and provided both of them with insider information of the Black Order, but it also meant sacrificing valuable training time. "I understand. Is it a solo mission?"

"Not originally, but now it is. I think." When Bookman gave Lavi a questioning look, the redhead continued. "Allen was supposed to come with me. Now, he's entangled in this ridiculous investigation."

The investigation, Bookman disagreed, wasn't all that ridiculous. Walker, Miss Lee, and the new woman they'd found had all arrived in the Order via Noah's Ark, which could only be controlled by the Millennium Earl, no matter if Allen said Road Camelot had summoned it or not. Since both Miss Lee and the other woman had been unconscious upon their arrival, it had been assumed Walker was the pilot of the mystical Ark. The boy believed that his lie had passed without detection with the interrogators, but they knew.

However, Bookman considered, it was more likely for someone like Miss Lee or the nearly unknown exorcist they traveled with to be the involvement with the Noah. Both of the females were not parasitic type, which made Noah involvement infinitely easier since Bookman knew from personal experience that usually Innocence went into a nearly uncontrollable, killing state in the presence of a Noah.

Of course, there was the matter of Walker's scar. An inverted pentagram was the undeniable sign of something related to the Millennium Earl. The star was used across every akuma, a motif that both protected and marked the demons who possessed it. Even the twelve other Noah had the stigmata form of the star across their foreheads as a sign of their relation to him.

Why would Walker possess that?

* * *

He couldn't look at the men anymore. Every time he did, Kanda's words rang through his mind. _Human experimentation._ Even if these men hadn't performed the horrific sciences themselves, they had allowed it. It was their Order, after all.

But was it his Order?

 _Not anymore._

His stomach felt continually light and uneasy, as if he might lose it at any moment. If Kanda knew about the experimentation, then surely Komui and Reever and Johnny knew too. _Clearly_ , he thought with bitterness, it would've been nice if they'd given him a heads up about the Order's not-so-clean history before he'd joined.

 _Cross did give you a warning_ , his mind supplied helpfully. _You just didn't understand it at the time_.

He understood it now. Allen forced himself to look at Rouvelier and the other executives. They were talking amongst themselves again, looking steadily more angry, which had been a trend the past few hours of questioning. The less answers Allen was able to give, the more irritated they grew. He glanced over at Bookman, who was also writing down something, oblivious to the others in the room. Lavi had left earlier in the day, unable to say goodbye, and Allen wondered where the red-haired man had gone.

He closed his eyes, a silent prayer his mind. The Fourteenth had been quiet for days. At first, Allen had been relieved to have the pressing darkness of the strange being disappear from his mind. However, now he needed its help.

 _Fourteenth_ , he whispered in his mind, _if I was really the one controlling the Ark, I—I need to do it again._

There was silence at his admission. He concentrated harder on the memory of the dark shadowed creature from his dreams, as if imagining it would summon the Fourteenth faster. _I need to see my master Cross,_ he continued, _because I think he understood better than me that the Black Order has secrets. Before I can be an exorcist for this order, I want to know—know_ everything _. Master has been on the run for years now, and the Ark is the only thing that could travel the distance to him._

 _B-but not now,_ he added hastily. _Later. When this investigation is finally over, and I have a moment of peace and quiet, and there's not guard breathing over my shoulder_. Then, things around him would go back to normal and he would have time to ponder his memories, and to figure out the internal conflict within himself. Every time he thought of the memory of Father's soft, loving blue eyes, his heart stuttered and his hands felt warm. Unconsciously, he moved them slightly, as if playing a piano. _Fourteenth_ , he repeated again, _please help me. I want to remember Fath—_

A low, deep chuckle echoed through his mind. _**Little, broken child,**_ it said, its voice inhuman, _ **if you wanted to leave the Order, why didn't you ask sooner?**_

There were gasps around the room. Allen's eyes flew open, and he saw with horror the bright, gleaming Ark gate hovering above himself. Why was it appearing _now_?! With shimmering light that reflected straight into the darkest corners of the space, there was no denying that it was the same gate they had questioned him on. Noah's Ark.

"It's confirmed," Rouvelier said out loud, his harsh, cold eyes piercing Allen's. He felt the world closing in on him, unable to deny the man's next words but knowing they couldn't be true. "Walker is implicated with the Noah family."

"Wh- No!" he cried, because that was the exact _opposite_ of anything going on. Frantic, ridiculous excuses ran through his mind, none of which explained the situation, but the situation itself was ridiculous. _It's not me, it can't be—_

He turned towards the gate, finding temptation in his horror. Could it take him to Cross? Someone who could answer his questions and explain the doubts he felt towards the Black Order?

"Guards!" the priest with the nasal voice shouted, even though Allen wasn't doing anything. He only stared at the Ark Gate, wondering, scared out of his mind. Last time, he had thought of the Black Order's location and been able to travel there once the gate was already summoned _butnotbyme_ but— could it work again?

The cloaked Crow guards were approaching him, slowly, but evidently meaning to detain him. The expressions of the men from headquarters were triumphant, pleased that they'd apparently found proof of something within Allen. He didn't understand why or how, but he knew with absolute certainty that if they arrested him, things would go badly.

He stepped towards the gate, holding a hand and pushing against the shimmering golden light, a desperate plan forming in his mind. _I'll go, and see Cross, and figure things out_. He wasn't running away, just making a brief escape until he _understood_. Before the guards could reach him, Allen pushed through the gate, thinking hard of Cross, Marian Cross—

And fell right through it. His head slammed against the floor painfully, thoughts skittering away in his confusion. The gate hadn't worked. _Why_?! Trying to stand, he found his knees were in a fiery world of pain from hitting the hard floor.

More familiar laughter echoed across his consciousness, but there was no explanation for the gate's failure.

Before Allen could think further, a cold numb grip wrapped itself around his arms. He looked down to find Crow talisman papers holding him down, preventing his movement and attempted escape. He'd seen Bookman use spell-magic like it before, but had never been on the receiving end. Stars, it hurt even worse than the fall did. An uncomfortable prickling ran up and down his Innocence arm, and without trying he knew he wouldn't be able to activate it.

The papers squeezed even tighter and Allen fell again to the ground, gasping to get air. Rouvelier stood over him, a pleased smile across the man's stony face. "By the authority of the Holy Order and the Almighty, I arrest Allen Walker for performing as the host to the Fourteenth, an act of heresy against Heaven and Mankind." With wide blue eyes, Allen stared up the man, feeling more powerless than he had even with Road Camelot. _The Host of the Fourteenth._

"I'm not th—"

Rouvelier's boot came down on Allen's head and he knew no more.

* * *

Bookman was both surprised and horrified. Out of all the things he'd expected of the interrogation, an Ark gate forming from Walker was not it. The event had, beyond a doubt, confirmed that the boy was connected with the Fourteenth. Rouvelier had called him out on being the literal host and made a painful arrest.

Bookman merely observed the scene. The Black Order likely had a small portion of the legend of the Fourteenth, and didn't know that the host had to be blood-related to a Noah. He believed that Allen had something to do with the Family, but _couldn't_ be that close to them.

He winced internally as Rouvelier crushed the boy's nose, rending him unconscious. The Crow's spell would have already been causing Walker immense pain through numbing, and it was an obvious overkill for a fifteen-year-old boy.

Lavi wouldn't be happy. The thought made a pang of guilt run through Bookman's chest, surprising himself. He knew about the dark history, and that the leaders in font of him were more concerned with their own power than saving mankind. That had never phased him before. But seeing the boy, looking small and pale as he was cuffed and carried unceremoniously by the Crow out of the room—Stars, he didn't even _know_ Walker and he felt bad.

Folding his arms and masking an emotion he may or may not have felt, Bookman followed the men. Rouvelier turned to give him a sickeningly triumphant smile. "After all these years, we've finally captured the Fourteenth in a live host. Today is a day that will go down in the records of the Black Order."

"How do you plan to use him?" Bookman asked, keeping his tone level. "In all recorded history, the Fourteenth had never made an affiliation with Innocence, but Walker is a parasitic host to it. Perhaps this will complicate matters….?"

Rouvelier waved a hand dismissively. "We will remove the arm. If we're to use the Fourteenth to hunt down the Millennium Earl, he must have full reign of the host body. Don't want any distractions, now, do we?" He laughed again.

 _Removing Walker's arm?_ Limbs could be removed without loss of life, he knew, but Walker's synchronization with his Innocence was unusually high. Parasitic types always tended to die whenever Noah destroyed their weapons, which was why Bookman wondered if Walker would survive the amputation.

As if sensing his concerns, Rouvelier gestured towards Walker's limp body, thrown over the shoulder of a Crow. "The Fourteenth offer its host immense regeneration abilities, like all Noah. The body will survive the removal of the limb." Bookman followed his pointed finger to Walker's face, where his nose had evidently healed itself. Underneath the dried blood and grime, the boy's face was untarnished, apart from the scar.

"Sir!" They both heard Komui Lee's voice from the hallway in front of the group. The scientist approached them, his dark eyes immediately catching upon Walker's form. "Wh-what happened?"

"Walker has been arrested as the host of the Fourteenth," Rouvelier said, his pleased tone painfully obvious. "We will proceed with the removal of his Innocence, as is expected of all traitors to the Order."

"Removal of his Innocence?" Komui didn't mask the horror in his voice, which was a mistake on his part.

Rouvelier shot him a cold look. "Director Lee, are you having _doubts_ about the leadership of the Order?"

Bookman could see the scientist's mentioned doubts flit across his eyes, and guessed what he was thinking. Komui was a caring leader who considered Allen a friend, but his first loyalty was to his sister Lenalee. Should he do anything to go against Rouvelier and the others' wishes, her safety would be in jeopardy. Often, when one person angered headquarters, people they cared about were sent to the most risky missions or were somehow closer to dangerous attacks. It was a strange commonality, Bookman thought with little humor. Clearly Komui knew this too, because he swallowed his protests.

"No sir, I understand. Allow me to escort you to our— _private_ —wing of the science department."

* * *

"Where's Allen?" Lavi asked, hands busy shoving things into his bag. Bookman stepped carefully around the chaotic mess of their shared room, attempting to come up with some explanation for Lavi that would satisfy his young apprentice.

"He is still with Rouvelier," he said, after a pause. Lavi nodded and continued packing.

"That's disappointing. I thought they'd be done with him sooner, so that I didn't have to deal with this mission alone."

"You do not consider yourself capable?" Bookman said, turning a sharp eye on Lavi.

Lavi shrugged. "I'm capable, I just find I enjoy company more than solo missions." Seeing the frigidity in Bookman's expression, he rolled his eyes. "Stop being such a stickler, old man. I'm a Bookman first and foremost, and you won't let even think about forming a permanent friendship, so don't worry."

"When are you leaving?" Bookman asked, instead of responding to _that_ particular statement.

"Tomorrow, whenever the train comes. Around the seventh hour?" Lavi muttered to himself.

 _Should I tell him?_ Bookman questioned. _No_. Despite Lavi's flippancy about human attachment, he knew his apprentice considered Walker to be a dear friend, and would be upset by the news of Allen's imprisonment.

"Hey, do you think Rouvelier will be finished questioning him by dinner?" Lavi mused.

"He told me it would be a great while before they were complete," Bookman said. "I'll pass on your regrets to Walker when I see him again."

Lavi gave him a strange look with his single green eye, but didn't say anything.

* * *

 _His brain was stuffed with cotton. Every time Allen tried to wake himself, to move, to speak, artificial sleep pulled him back down into the murky darkness of dreams. He had vague recollections of people murmuring around him, of blurry white shapes passing and the sound of metal instruments being shifted. There was the ever-piercing sound of a heart monitor machine. The steady_ blip-blip _of the instrument was the only thing that let Allen know he was still alive, and not burning in some underworld._

 _He opened his eyes enough to see Reever's blurry face looking down at him, but didn't have the strength to open his mouth. "Raise the anesthesia," the blond man's voice said to someone else. "He's still conscious."_

 _More darkness flooded his vision. His dreams and thoughts and feelings all mixed into one great mess, flowing across his mind in a solid mass. Road's laughter, Kanda's swearing at a Finder, Miranda's smile as she stared at the Innocence clock, the feel of piano keys underneath his fingers, the softness of Father's smile—_

 _One dream, clearer than the rest. His father smiled down at him as they walked through a city park, the world green and strangely bright. The man's face was obscured by the brightness of the sun._

" _I'm tired," he told him. "Can we go get some chocolate?"_

 _Father's laugh, ever-so-familiar and kind. "Don't stop, Allen. Keep walking. We're almost there."_

I will _, he tried to say, but his legs were starting to sink into the grass and suddenly Father's hand wasn't there anymore and—_

There was a cold brush against his arm. Allen opened his eyes slightly, realizing that someone was writing on him. His shirt had been removed and he could feel the drying ink of marks around his Innocence weapon.

Komui turned away and set the marker down. _Why was the director writing on him?_

He vaguely felt the cold leather of restraints around his wrists. They'd left his legs free, he thought with humor, which would've been helpful for his escape escape for the fact that he could barely keep his eyes open. There was an IV attached to his human wrist.

Tears filled in his eyes, though they were slipping shut again. He was tired, and he wanted to stay in the soft warmth of the dreams of Father. _This place, with its harsh white light and shiny metallic, was cold_.

Allen drifted back into unconsciousness.

* * *

"An exorcist said something funny to me," Road said.

Neah gave her a look. "You make it sound like you and the exorcist were chatting over crumpets and tea." He paused. "Wait, _when_ were you chatting with an exorcist?"

"A while ago." She focused, trying to figure out why she felt so strange.

Her nephew's death had become a singular, unchangeable event, and its effects on their family likewise. Wanting to hunt and kill all exorcist was, as she felt, a natural consequence. But Walker's words stirred a foreign emotion in her heart. _Do you think your nephew_ , he'd said, his blue eyes burning sparks into hers, _would be happy to see all the destruction you've cause?_

"What is it?" Neah asked.

"But it's not a choice," she whispered out loud, not hearing Neah. "It's not like we had a choice."

"A choice to do what?" Neah's finger flicked her forehead, and she blinked, then gave him a childishly irritated face.

"A choice whether to kill you in your sleep or not." He rolled his eyes, dropping whatever concern he'd shown and forgetting all about her first statement.

"Go ahead and try."

* * *

The warning came seconds before the pain. _WAKE_ , a different voice sounded in his mind, accompanied by a jolt from his hand into the rest of his body. His eyes flew open in time to see the silver glint of a scalpel as it sliced in a deep motion across his shoulder. _GET OUT._

"He's—" the scientist yelled, just before Allen yanked his knee upwards and caught the unknown man in a sharp jab to the kidney. The scalpel clattered to the floor, spattering drops of his blood across the white tile. He didn't understand why or how, but for a brief moment, the anesthesia's affect had faded. Maybe it had something to do with the glowing green light running up and down his Innocence arm. Was that where the voice had come from? _He had to get out._

He yanked his wrists painfully out of the restraints, the leather stitches tearing even as they chafed against his pale skin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Crow raise its hand, but he threw himself over the operating table and crouched behind it, narrowly avoiding a blast of magic.

"Get him!" Rouvelier cried. It became a blur of motion as Allen ducked, punched, weaved, and pushed whoever was close enough to grab at him. Broken glass from the operating light crunched underneath his bare feet, but the pain was dull and far away. Everything felt far away.

His Innocence activated as soon as Allen got close to the remaining Crows, and he had no remorse as he slammed two of them against the wall with a huge claw. Rouvelier took a gurney to the head, and Allen felt only satisfaction as the man's cold eyes rolled back into his head.

It took a few seconds for Allen to realize that the lab was silent. Apart from the droning noise of the heart rate monitor from being disconnected and his own panting breath, everyone around him was unconscious, bloody, and no longer trying to get him. He caught sight of Komui, facedown, blood saturating the bad of his head and felt _horror,i'msorryguilt_. Why had the director agreed with Rouvelier? He hadn't done anything to stop it, Allen thought, the betrayal making his hands shake and vision blur with tears. It was obvious from the marks along his collarbone and shoulder that they'd been planning to _remove_ his arm. The single slice from the scalpel still stung, although it was healing quickly.

Movement across the room made Allen drop in a hurried crouch, reading to continue the desperate fight. Once he saw who watched him back, he froze. "B-Bookman?" The man kept a steady gaze on Allen, but made no move to stop or hurt him.

"I-I have to get out of here," Allen said. The numbing effects of the anesthesia were starting to return and he didn't know how long it would be until the strange curse took care of them. _I think I'm in shock_. He'd just fought and destroyed the science division and leaders of the Black Order, after all. "B-but the Ark won't w-work." The words were half-mumbled to himself.

"Noah's Ark can only take you to where have been before." Bookman's voice was steady and calm. "I….do not believe it can be summoned by anyone other than the Millennium Earl and the Fourteenth's memory." There was an unspoken question in his voice, the same question that Rouvelier had been asking Allen over _and over and over again_.

Without responding, Allen lifted a shaking hand to play another invisible chord, focusing hard. "Ark," he whispered. A soft glow illuminated the room as the gate appeared, as summoned. Where would he go? There were many possibilities, but he didn't want to be found by the Finders or Crow.

As if by magic, the sound of a train horn echoed through the room. Somewhere in the distant outside, the train would be going by the headquarters. Allen could picture its familiar rickety appearance, the coal-dusted tops of the cars—he knew where to go.

"Bookman," he said, swallowing so that his voice wouldn't be hoarse, "can you send a message to me? Without telling anyone?"

Bookman was silent. Allen looked down at his hands, tired beyond imagination. "I suppose it does't matter, actually. You could project the message to the entire world, because the Order already _knows_ —" he cut himself off, choking on his own words.

"I will deliver your message," the man said.

The train whistle sounded again. Allen knew he had to hurry. "I don't know where Master Cross is, but he'll probably be in one of the Italian bars along Sicily, those are his favorite, and you could send a golem, even though it's recorded—but that's fine—" his voice was stuttering more now, "tell him what's happened, and that he should come back if he can, b-because—"

Bookman's expression never changed, but Allen could sense the curiosity behind it as he confessed it finally. Out loud. "It's all true. Tell him everything is true, and the Fourteenth is in my _mind_ and I don't know what to do." His voice broke on the last word, and he turned away from the Bookman.

The man didn't say anything as Allen disappeared through the gate.

* * *

The thump alerted Lavi to the fact that something was probably wrong. It wasn't his car, actually, that the thump had landed on (he was quite sure, since he himself had just jumped in through the top and the square hatch was still open— but still, he decided to check it out. It sounded, he observed, like someone had fallen onto one of the cars.

Then, there was the sound of a delicate lady's shriek and some more yelling. Having no idea what was going on or the source of the thumping noise, Lavi immediately turned on his heel and went towards the source. Down, past several cars full of poofy skirts and men in top hats who were as concerned as he was, until he reached the car where the noise had originated.

Several passengers were gathered around something, all frantically talking over each other. "It surely must be a fallen angel," one women declared.

"Fallen angels are _demons_ ," her male companion retorted. "Look at the creature's arm." One man spotted Lavi and the Order insignia on his jacket and gasped. "An exorcist."

Immediately, all the bystanders stepped away from the something, as if Lavi was going to exorcise it right then and there. Lavi finally caught sight of the object, or _person_ , he realized, eyes widening in horror. _It was Allen._

The boy was crumpled up on the floor of the moving train car, covered in dried blood and missing half of his clothing, including shoes. Lavi knelt next to him, pushing his pale hair out of his eyes. "Allen? What's wrong?" he said urgently, well aware that everyone else in the car was observing just as intently.

The boy stirred slightly, groaning. His blue eyes flicked open, staring in confusion at Lavi, then at the inside of the car, disorientated. Then, realization hit. He sat up so fast he barely missed hitting Lavi in the face.

"L-Lavi," he breathed, "d-don't tell anyone I'm here. You can't."

"What is _wrong_?" asked Lavi again, confused out of his mind. Another woman behind them whispered _demon_ , and the Bookman decided it was time to exit the car before waiting for Allen's answer. "Come on," he said, grabbing the boy's skinny arm and pulling him up and out of the stuffed car. No one followed them, but he could hear the whispers and conversation increase in volume the moment the door slid shut.

Half-walking and half being dragged by Lavi, Allen followed along in a stunted stagger. From what the red-haired man could see, the boy wasn't hurt, only extremely bloody and disorientated. Once they reached Lavi's car, which was thankfully still empty, Lavi forced Allen to sit on one of the booths.

"What happened?" he asked for the third time. This time, Allen's expression was more focused. The boy shivered, staring at his hands. Lavi yanked out an old wool coat from his travel bag, pulling it around his shoulders.

"Just a sec," Allen whispered, as if he needed a casual break, as if he wasn't covered in blood and pale as death. "Just give me a—s-second."

Realizing that the last thing his friend needed was another version of an interrogation, Lavi nodded and sat back a little bit, allowing Allen room to breathe. The boy pulled his knees up to his chest and sat on the bench, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. "Whatever happened, you're safe now," Lavi said. He awkwardly reached out a hand and patted Allen's head.

After a few minutes filled only with the sound of the rocking of the car along the tracks, the boy had calmed down. More color had returned to his cheeks, and his hands din't shake so bad as he pulled Lavi's cloak tighter around himself.

"You can't tell them I'm here." His voice was quiet.

"The Black Order?" He nodded.

"Promise."

"I promise," Lavi said, "but I need to know _why_."

Allen shifted nervously, attempting to speak several times but stopping before the words left his mouth, obviously unsure of how to phrase it. "They were going to cut off my arm."

For the first time, Lavi noticed the black marks around Allen's shoulder peeking out underneath the cloak. "They were _what_?"

"Innocence is hard to get back, and so they wanted to harvest it in case I defected."

Out of all the exorcists most likely to betray the Order, Lavi thought, Allen was literally not even on the list. The boy had been loyal to the exorcists for longer than Lavi had known him, and was always the first to ask for missions or to help the Finders. "Why on earth did they think you were going to defect?"

This answer must've been harder than the last, because Allen went pale again. "Do you know who—what—the Fourteenth is?"

 _The Fourteenth_. The personage they had continually asked the boy over and over about during the interrogation. Lavi hadn't asked Bookman much about it, and only knew that it was another figure related to the Noah that the Black Order had been seeking for many years. Honestly, he hadn't been that interested in it because Allen was the last person he'd expect any dark, corrupted past from (despite the strange curse scar). "The one the Black Order is looking for?" he said slowly, not wanting to demand answers too immediately from the boy.

"Yes." Soulful sky-blue eyes fixed directly on Lavi's own. "You can't tell anyone, and I don't understand why or what, b-but I— _I'm_ the Fourteenth."

 _This boy? This small, white-haired, utterly-lost looking exorcist?_ Lavi thought in bewilderment. Whatever great and powerful figure the Black Order was looking for, surely it couldn't be him. "How do you know?"

"I hadn't realized it until during the interrogation, but I've had dreams of the Fourteenth since I was—well, as long as I'm able to remember. Then, I was able to use Noah's Ark to help Miranda and Lenalee, which only the Millennium Earl and the Fourteenth—supposedly—can do." Unnerved by Lavi's stunned silence, the boy glanced out he window and then back down at his hands.

"I'm not mad," Lavi said, because Allen was acting like he carried the black plague. _Though, maybe this 'Fourteenth' thing is worse._ "I'm just thinking. Is this .. Fourteenth.. a good thing?"

Allen shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I thought it was more of an ambiguous thing, but then it mistakingly made me summon an ark gate in front of Rouvelier and the other priests, wh-which led to them arresting me." He shivered, absently brushing his hand over his face like there was a phantom pain.

"It? You're talking about it like it's separate."

"It is." Allen rocked forward on his hands. "Lavi, I'm the Fourteenth but it's not _me_. It's like a separate voce inside of my head, and I'm just a…. host."

Lavi was disliking this Fourteenth idea more and more. "Host as in—it'll eventually take you over?"

"N-no, I wouldn't go that far," his voice drifted off. "Just another person living here too." They both fell into silence.

The 'Noah Ark' must've been how Allen had arrived on the train, Lavi thought. _What I find the most shocking out of this entire situation is that Allen, who is literally the Order's most loyal exorcist, will probably never be able to return._ How would their small makeshift friend group survive without its youngest, purest member? Lavi could pretend all he wanted that he was free of attachment, but in truth he cared for Lenalee, Kanda, Allen, and the other European order members deeply.

In addition, Allen was a _kid_. Just fifteen years old. The Black Order was his home, and for it to have sacrificed his arm and destroyed any loyalty the boy had—it was unforgivable. He had no memory of parents or family, and so had virtually nowhere to return to.

Allen caught his gaze, and smiled for the first time since falling into the train. "Stop looking so sad, Lavi. It's all right. I've still got my arm."

 _But you've lost so much_. Dried blood still flaked off Allen's neck, face, and shoulder; marker notes were scribbled along his arm like he was a mannequin in a dress shop, and his scar was a pale line scratched across his bright eyes. In the past year he'd known the boy, Lavi had never seen him look more fragile.

"Of all the places the ark could've taken you, why'd you come here?"

"I wanted to help you with your mission," Allen said, without a bit of shame. "I didn't really know where else to go."

Lavi sighed. _The Black Order has just betrayed you and tried to cut off your arm, and you're still trying to serve them,_ he thought despairingly. _Allen, you need help._ "Come on," he said, standing up. "You need the washroom. The other passengers might wonder why there's dried blood and surgery marks on you."

"I'm a corpse freshly revived from a scientific laboratory," Allen said with a light tone.

* * *

The train's washroom, he knew from previous experience, was small and barely adequate, as well as being at the far end of the cars. Out of the corner of his eye, Allen could see other passengers giving them curious and strange looks, especially when they realized he wasn't an old man (despite the white hair). He did his best to pull the scratchy wool cloak around himself, to hide the fact he had no shirt on underneath. The headache and throbbing feeling the white laboratory of the Black Order gave him had abated, though, and he was relieved to be out of their grasp. Out of all the places they'd expect to find him, on a train with Bookman's loyal apprentice probably wasn't it.

"We'll have to get off on the next town to get you some clothes," Lavi murmured as they walked through another less-filled car. "The mission they sent me is close to the mountains, and I'd expect it to be bitterly cold."

"That'll be an advantage to us. I blend in with the snow." Lavi glanced back, unsure if Allen was serious, and then caught the half-smile, and rolled his eyes in return.

"We can't all be albino, 'beansprout.'"

The floor of the cars was cold against his bare toes, and Allen wished again for some shoes. In his mindless escape from the Order, he hadn't thought ahead further than _"get out." If this happens again,_ he thought with humor _, I'll have to plan better._

They reached another car, this time without the usually frivolously-dressed passengers. In fact, this one was devoid of seats and furnishing, and looked like it was meant for crate or luggage storage. Several badly-dressed men sat around in a circle, some of them without shirts or shoes or even pants. Allen was confused until he caught sight of the cards laid in piles in front of them.

Suddenly, an idea.

"Hold on," he told Lavi. "I need a small detour here."

The Bookman gave him a weird look, which grew even weirder as Allen plopped down directly in the circle. "Can I play?" he asked brightly.

The men, most of which had cigarettes, unshaven faces, and homeless-looking attire, stared back at him the same way Lavi was.

"This game ain't for little 'uns," one said, in a gravelly tone.

"No, let him play," another, lighter voice added. The man who had spoken was sitting in the epitome of casual grace, at odds with both the tarnished metal of the train car and the messy, curled hair that fell around his face and obscured his features. He had huge glasses, deeply tanned skin, and a smile like the devil.

 _And brought the strangest sense of déjà vu._

 _Uncle Tik_ , something in his mind helpfully supplied, which was ridiculous. He didn't know anyone named 'Uncle Tik,' and he'd never had anything like that in his memories surface before. For a moment, he forgot about the idea and needing clothes and everything from the past hour, because this man was _familiar._ His heartbeat sounded loud in his ears. _Who is Uncle Tik?_ The name rang over and over in his head, but nnothing else surfaced.

"He's a kid," another repeated, as if that wasn't painfully obvious. Allen jumped to attention.

The man in glasses, Uncle— _notuncletik_ shrugged. "If he wants to play, he can." He turned his head upwards slightly, as if sizing Allen up. "Doesn't look like he's bringing too many clothes the equation, anyways, so he might not survive long." His dark eyes observed from over the tops of the ridiculous glasses, making Allen's mind whirl with an even stronger sense of familiar.

"Oh, you're playing strip poker?" Allen asked, pretending to not know. "That sounds fun!"

The man to his right shuffled the deck again, and passed him some cards. Lavi settled on his haunches behind Allen, having stayed quiet for the previous minutes. "Are you seriously doing this? I didn't realize we had time for games."

"I need clothes," he hissed back under his breath. "This is the opportune way to get some." He turned back to the group and gave them another blinding smile. No matter how familiar the man at the other end of the car seemed, he needed to focus.

* * *

Tyki bit his tongue to stop from laughing out loud at the expressions of the other men in the train car. They, including Tyki, were all down to their boxers in less than thirty minutes flat. Honestly, the boy had surpassed even _his_ expectations. He was a better cheater than Neah and Road combined, which was saying a lot. Heck, the kid didn't even have shoes or socks on, or a shirt to hide cards up.

 _He did have an arm made of Innocence_. The ebony-black color and green-gem cross in the back of his hand were dead giveaways. He was willing to the bet that the strange hammer hanging from the red-haired boy's belt was made of the sickening crystal, too.

He could sense the slight pressure in his mind from the close presence of two god weapons, but pushed down the Noah memory's desire to crush them where they stood. They must've been from the European branch of the Order, which was nearby, he thought. Stars above, though, what on earth had happened to the white-haired one? He had hair the same snow-color of Wisely's, skinny arms, and a scar across one cheek.

Tyki was quite certain the brownish red substance along the boy's neck and smeared underneath his nose was dried blood. Had he been fighting? Tyki wasn't aware of any akuma attacks in the area of the train besides the family's spies, but Mana did things they all didn't know about, so perhaps that'd been it. An akuma attack that stole a kid his clothes and left the other completely untouched? _Funny_.

 _ **Destroy it**_ , his memory hissed in his mind. _No_ , he responded. It was his 'light' side's time, and train massacres were (naturally) forbidden. In a little bit, he'd find his target and kill him, but not now. Tyki continued to steadfastly ignore it and placed his cards in the center. "Full house." There were more muffled swears, but the boy kept his gaze cool. _Where'd he learn a poker face like that?_

As the boy reached forward to place his own hand in the deck, Tyki caught sight of the pentagram shape resting above his eyebrow. For a split second, surprise flashed across the Noah's face. The mark of the Millennium Earl? _Now, what business does that have doing on the face of a young exorcist?_ he thought. _Does Mana know of this one?_

"So," he said in a low, drawling voice as the cards were being shuffled again. "What brings two boys like yourselves to the back of the train?"

"The washroom," the red-haired one said, giving Tyki a suspicious look. Tyki smiled passively back.

"Well, that's lovely. I'm Tyki." His other assorted miner and homeless companions all gave introductions that varied in gruffness. The white-haired boy nodded politely to them.

"I'm Walker, and this is Lavi." Tyki nearly dropped his hand, which would've been bad because the boy was adept enough at cheating without directly seeing his cards. _Walker_?

He was literally playing cards with the target he'd been assigned.

"We got lost from our parents," the boy was telling the others in a young, subtly-fake sweet voice that dripped with lies. "So thanks for entertaining us!"

Had Mana known the target was a kid? _Probably not._ The akuma spies stationed in the Order usually didn't get verification from the Earl before assigning targets, a problem to which Tyki knew Mana had no issue with. _Which I should have no issue with._ Except, there was something like a conscience wiggling at the back of his mind. _Stars_ , that was annoying. He'd thought he'd gotten rid of that thing years ago. Tyki observed the boy, realizing he couldn't be more than fourteen or fifteen. _The same age I was_ , he pondered, _when Mana found me_. A long time past.

The problem was that the Millennium Earl, the 'father' of their crazy family, was supposed to be the one with conscience. Not Tyki. Then, Tyki didn't have worry about feeling guilty about killing a child because Mana had said it was okay. _That was how it worked until ten years ago._

He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize the round had finished in record time until the other miners were groaning and handing over whatever clothing object Walker required. The boy turned his suddenly devilish glint onto Tyki, who was only in his socks, coat, wide glasses, and boxers.

Now, there was something downright familiar about that grin. Tyki stared openly, trying to place the sudden feeling of _I've seen a smile like that before_. "Your coat."

His coat. Tyki sighed, shrugging it off. It was one that Mana had given to him several holidays ago, thought he'd worn it enough through the mines and hunting exorcists that it appeared ashen and filthy. "I'll let you borrow it, boy," he said, passing it over to Walker. The boy looked back at him with mystified blue eyes. "For a few days or so."

The boy obviously did not understand his true meaning (which was good), but nodded. "Sure, Mr. Tyki. Sorry about winning so much." He shrugged on the overlarge black coat, having already taken possession of Gustav's shirt, Larnyed's (surprisingly clean) socks, and Alfrei's extra pair of boots. "Thanks for playing me. I don't really want to take anymore clothes, and I assume you're all finished…"

"I can lose a shirt, but my underpants are too much. Anytime kid," Gustav said, laughing in a good-natured way even though he was now shirtless and without pride. "Go find your parents now." Walker's smile softened into something more natural, less predatory. It was a nicer look, Tyki decided.

"I will." The whistle sounded overhead, marking the coming of another stop. Tyki stood up slowly, stretching his legs. "Are you all getting off here?"

"'S where the mines are," he said. "Don't look so guilty, boy. We'll find more clothes easily."

Without further ado, another miner yanked opened the door of the car while the train still sped over the tracks. They were close enough to the station that it would be faster to jump off there. Walker and the red-haired boy stood, watching the haphazard group gather their things among a cacophony of muttered swears and casual conversation. The boy kept, of all things, watching _Tyki_ out of the others. He wondered why Walker would single him out. Could the boy sense something off? It didn't matter.

As he reached gripped the metal handle, glancing down at the passing scenery and iron tracks, Tyki shot a look over his shoulder at the exorcist. "Walker," he said, grinning. "See you soon," and then jumped off.

He didn't need a conscience.

* * *

"Those miners were nice," Allen said, staring at the space where Tyki had just disappeared from.

"You're just saying that because they didn't put up a fight when you whupped them in strip poker and then took all their clothes," Lavi said. Allen laughed.

"Now we don't have to make any other stops on our way to the reported location." Even though the shoes were big, the coat was warmer and softer than Lavi's travel cloak had been.

"Are you sure about this?" the red-haired man said, following Allen as they finally reached the washroom. He used the pitcher to splash water on his face, watching the reddened water pool at the bottom. "The Black Order will have put out a search warrant for you across the entire holy empire. The Finders' skills aren't limited to just Innocence."

"All I know is being an exorcist," Allen said, which was the truth. He wanted to figure out his memories, wanted to figure out Father and the fourteenth, and the only way to do that was to distance himself from the Order. But he couldn't just give up on saving those around him. "So I can't ever stop walking."

Lavi didn't respond. The sound of the train whistle and the wheels jolting off again from its stop filled the cabin, and there was nothing to say.

* * *

The headquarters was in chaos. Bookman stepped through the mess of people running back and forth, of fallen papers and urgent phone calls and golems flitting around delivering more personal messages. His expression, as usual, was one of perfect serenity.

Rouvelier was furious. His voice could be heard from straight down the hall as he verbally tore down any poor soul unlucky enough to step into his line of sight. He had good reason, Bookman mused. The Order had both captured the Fourteenth and lost him within the day. Possibly the most powerful bargaining chip they'd gained in the last centuries of the holy war was now lost to the world, able to travel nearly wherever he wished at the command of the ark. _That bargaining chip also knocked him out with a metal gurney_ , _perhaps adding to his ire._

Bookman internally winced as another phone was thrown the wall, its cord snapping back and hitting a science division member in the face. "WE HAD HIM!" Rouvelier roared. "YOU FOOLS!"

It was no one's fault but the Order's own, Bookman thought. Walker's reaction to waking upon a surgical table with his arm pinned like that of a frog or rat's was to be expected. He passed the room where Rouvelier was nearly spitting flames and continued onward, to his own private chambers.

While the Order was in chaos, he was not. He had a message to deliver. A message, as per requested, to Marian Cross.

* * *

"These boots are actually quite warm," Allen declared, stepping onto the wooden planks of the station with stiff legs.

It had been another eight hours to the mission point that Lavi had originally been assigned, so they arrived when it was dark. He squinted, unable to see much beyond a decrepit sign and frost-bitten grasslands. "Are you sure this is the right stop?"

"A Bookman never forgets," Lavi retorted, his bag swung over his shoulder. When Allen shot him a look, he amended, "though there were some odd details in the report Komui gave me. We'll worry about it in the morning. Let's head into town first and find some place to crash.."

Allen didn't much want to think about Komui or his assigned reports, so he quickly followed Lavi's suggestion, leading the way past the run-down station into the darkness of the path beyond. The town was at the base of a mountain, but it was dark and heavily forested so that Allen couldn't see any part of the hills at all. His boots clomped awkwardly on his feet. Despite this, he was grateful for the clothes.

Every time a breeze brushed past him and the coat fluttered with it, he was reminded of the man who he'd stolen— _bargained_ it from. Tyki's last words had been odd. _"See you soon, Walker"._ That phrase, combined with the nearly predatory smile—Allen shivered, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder, as if some messy-haired miner were about to grab him.

The thing that freaked him the most was that Tyki brought the same eerie familiarity that Road Camelot had done. It wasn't in their physical characteristics or in personality; there was something literally in Allen's memories that was shaken by both of them. _Uncle Tik barely sounds like Tyki, though_ , he thought. _Surely there's someone that looked like Tyki in my memories, and not Tyki himself._ Otherwise, wouldn't the man have said something?

Was "Uncle Tik" connected to Father?

"Hey," Lavi said, and Allen nearly ran into him. In the darkness, he could see the Bookman's careful gaze roving the dark path in front of them. "Do you hear something?"

Allen listened intently. There was only silence in the great forest around them. "There's probably a lot of woodland animals, I don't think—"

"GET THEM!" Suddenly, rough hands grabbed Allen from behind. He spun, automatically trying to punch out in the dark but missed horribly. There had to be at least six other men in the path with him and Lavi, and from the high-pitched screaming coming from the Bookman, they were grabbing him too. _If it's the Black Order,_ his mind helpfully supplied, _then hopefully you'll get the chance to punch Rouvelier in the face before they cut off your arm._

 _Oh, shut up_ , Allen responded. He kept trying to hit anyone that came near enough, but that was easier said than done when one's arms were being forcibly hog-tied behind the back. He swung out his leg and felt it satisfyingly connect with someone's jaw. Unfortunately, his feet were restrained after that.

Allen was swung none-too-gently overtop someone's shoulder. The spinning ground beneath his face made him feel dizzy, so he closed his eyes and concentrated on calming down.

"Bring the exorcists this way," a man's low voice instructed their captors. A sickening dread formed in the pit of Allen's stomach. _They know we're exorcists_. How had they known Lavi and him would be arriving? _The Order's already found me._

All the energy sucked out of him. Even if he escaped a second time, they would find him again without question—after all, they'd found him within half a day in the middle of nowhere on his way to a rural town.

"Allen," he heard Lavi call his name amidst he sound of clomping boots and snapping of twigs, "they're not Black Order!"

Acutely aware that the maybe-Order members could hear them, Allen hissed back, "how do you know?! They know we're exorcists!"

"I think," Lavi gasped out, apparently finding it just as hard as he did to breath deeply when upside down, "they're the ones who sent the request to the Order in the first place!"

"Then why are they—" Allen started, but was cut off.

"Quiet!" Both exorcists fell silent.

Maybe Lavi was right _. If it was the Black Order, they'd have already used Crows to bind you and your arm,_ a more logical part of his mind suggested. Still, his heart raced with fear at the possibility that he was going back to that awful, cold, white laboratory.

The branches on the ground that had passed in front of his eyes were slowly turning to packed dirt and shrubbery. In one moment, Allen was dropped carelessly on the ground next to Lavi, the world blurring as the blood rushed out of his head. The darkness around them was abated as more men and some women gathered in a circle with torches, the two exorcists in the middle of it back-to-back.

"I'm feeling very uncomfortable," Lavi said, stating the obvious. "This might be part of some satanic ritual."

"I-I've got the pentagram already on me, so they'll probably just sacrifice you," he replied lightly, masking the intense fear he felt inside. Judging from the elbow Lavi gave him, he wasn't amused with Allen's answer.

"Exorcists," an older man stepped forward, "we apologize for this rough treatment." His face was half-obscured in a white beard and dirtied peasantry clothes. _Not_ , Allen thought with relief, _the uniform of an Order member._

"So you think you could maybe untie us?" Lavi said.

"Priests, shamans, and holy men have come to our town before—but they have all run in the face of our plight. Thus," the man gestured to the ropes around their wrists and ankles, "the restraints."

That did not sound good. Allen wished he'd gotten the full report of what the request had been from Lavi before coming to the village.

"W-what plight?" the Bookman questioned.

In one motion, he man's face dropped low to theirs, the torchlight making it creepy. They both yelled in fear. "A vampire."

Allen stopped yelling. " _Pardon_?"

"A vampire. You think us comical, I understand, but we've requested this in only the most dire of circumstances."

The damp ground was cold and muddy underneath Allen as he discreetly tried to loosen the bonds. "I'm sorry, sir, but we're exorcists. Vampires don't really fall under our expertise." _Come on, loosen—_

"No, _I'm_ sorry," the man said. "The creature within our midst is the most deranged of demons. He feasts upon the townspeople and drinks their blood until they are nothing more than husks. I am sorry, but you must stay until he is killed."

The bonds, alas, were very tight. "Maybe we should do that they ask," Lavi said. "There's a reason Komui asked me to come."

Allen wanted to stay true to his natural exorcist abilities, but was also not feeling charitable towards anything the Black Order asked its exorcists to do. "Akuma eat each other, they don't drink human blood," he murmured back. "Our Innocence won't be able to help us if it's anything else."

"If we don't agree, they'll keep us tied up." Lavi's voice dropped even quieter. "Come on, Allen. We'll just go over to wherever the 'vampire' is, pretend to kill something, and return. Then, we can get a good night's rest without being tied up. I don't think they'll help us unless we do that they say."

"Fine."

"We," Lavi announced loudly to the townspeople around them, "will help you. Please lead us to the vampire."

The old man's face lit up with joy. "We are saved!" he called to the others, which was met with exclamations of joy. _Is a fake vampire really that big of a deal?_

They untied Lavi and Allen's feet but left the hand restraints on, leading them past the makeshift cottage homes of the village itself. At that hour of the night, torches were the only light along the cart-smashed path. Once they'd passed the town, more forest and darkness pressed in upon them. Allen heard Lavi give an audible gulp. It was, he amended, a creepy night. He was buoyed on by the fact that _the Black Order hasn't found me. No matter what happens, I'm safe from them._

"Vampires really aren't real, right?"

"No," he said, but he was unsure too. The villagers were downright fearful as they pushed Allen and Lavi deeper into the forest. Allen finally caught sight of a house's dark spires, peeking over the tops of the trees and illuminated by a single light within.

It was a gothic-style mansion, perfectly fitting in amongst the dark pines and frost-covered hills around it. "We can't take you any further," the old man told them. Allen felt the ropes behind his back being snipped away, before a hand pushed against him and Lavi towards the unapproachable mansion.

"God be with you," they were told, before the rest of the traveling party melted into the trees. The night was suddenly eerily silent.

"Guess we'd better go," the white-haired boy said, with hesitation. "After all, vampires really don't exist. Right, Lavi? Bookmen would know if they were ever a case of them."

The sound of Lavi's chattering teeth was not comforting.

* * *

Marian Cross was drinking alone that night. It was his favorite bar in Sicily, though, so the alcohol was good enough he didn't require any female company. Around him, the late-night drunkards stumbled, swore, and belted out Italian folk songs in attempts to impress the waitresses. They weren't very successful.

He spun his glasses in his fingers, utterly bored. In years past, he would've had his idiot apprentice there to watch out for. That kid was always knocking over bottles and making people angry, he thought with a small bit of affection. _Now, he's probably off acting like the savior of the entire freaking human race_.

There were a lot of past friends and acquaintances that Cross would've liked to entertain. He recalled the Campbell twins, and all the mishaps him and Neah had gotten into when they were teenagers (and Mana cleaning up after their messes). They'd been inseparable, incorrigible troublemakers. Now, it had been over ten years since Cross had spoken with them. Then, there were the other Generals of the Black Order and the fun they'd had together. _I wonder how Tiedoll is doing._

He took a long swig of the alcohol. The burning in his throat helped him forget the past better than anything else could've.

"What's that?" some scrubby man slurred. Cross opened his eye, observing the spot where he pointed. A small, bronze golem hovered there.

 _The Black Order's?_ He swore mentally. How did they find him? He had been living the past years completely missing in action, and though they'd sent letters to rumored areas of his location, they had never even come _close_ to finding him. What's more, they'd found him at his favorite bar thousands of miles away from. _I thought that knowledge was private,_ he thought with irritation. Only Allen knew about it, and the pure-hearted idiot never would've told anyone.

The golem drew close to him. Luckily no one had noticed or taken seriously the drunk man's observation, so Cross didn't have to hide it amidst the crowded bar. The little camera spot buzzed over his face once more, checking his identity. A small green light flicked on its body.

"-bbzzt- Mssage for Marian Cross, ID: private. This message has not been permanently recorded or altered in any way –bzzt-"

That was an odd introduction. The Black Order, by standard, recorded all of the messages sent on its golems for paperwork and record purposes. "Sender is Bookman –bzzt-" _Even more odd,_ Cross thought. He'd never actually met the Bookman at the Order but knew of him. _Why's he sending me a message?_

The golem paused, waiting for the Cross to speak. "Give message."

"-bzzt- Message begins." The electronic voice changed into a statically, phone-call type one of a human male. " _Hello, Cross. My name is Bookman. I apologize for any confusion, since we have never met and you might be questioning of my motives. I am sending this message without knowledge of the Order, and I think it best that this secrecy continue to be kept."_

Stars, the geezer was long-winded. "Get on with it," Cross muttered.

" _Your apprentice has requested me to give you this."_

Now, that was something Cross didn't expect. _"He has revealed the location of a bar you frequent, and I can only hope that my golem finds you. Walker's message is this: I don't know where Master Cross is, but he'll probably be in one of the Italian bars along Sicily, those are his favorite,"_ that definitely sounded the brat even though it was Bookman's voice. He listened to the quivering idiot's plea without much sympathy. However, Allen's ending words made his heart skip.

"… _tell him what's happened, and that he should come back if he can, b-because— it's all_ true _. Tell him everything is true, and the fourteenth is in my mind and I don't know what to do."_ There was a brief, static-filled silence as Bookman paused after the ending of Allen's words. Cross' mind was just as shocked.

" _Walker is the host of the Fourteenth. Unlike me, and I suspect you too, he has no idea what this entails or signifies."_ It signified a crapload of— _crap—_ , Cross thought. He had been close to Neah when his best friend had been overtaken by the Fourteenth's curse, and had literally attempted to kill his twin brother numerous times before finally overcoming it.

It also meant—Cross's stomach flipped—that Allen was physically, literally related to one of the Noah.

He'd found that brat in an _orphanage_. It didn't make sense; Neah had explained that they'd have to be close enough to the Millennium Earl (with satirical irony in his tone) to make them advantageous to possess. Allen was clearly _not_ this.

 _The idiot didn't have memories when I found him._ The glass underneath his fingers nearly cracked with the pressure of Cross' grip. It didn't make sense.

" _He is on the run from the Order,"_ the recording continued. Another heartbeat skipped. Stars, he hadn't even thought—The Order would've skewered that brat and roasted him if they found out he had a Noah memory inside. _"…and, as I imagine, very confused. If you have any light to shed on his past situation or his current course of action, please respond to this. The Fourteenth's curse has not fully taken over him, but it can only be a matter of time before he seeks out the Earl."_

 _Before Allen tries to kill Mana_. The thought seemed ridiculous to Cross; his small, annoyingly pure apprentice trying to kill his old best friend? Allen wouldn't even know Mana or what the Earl was really like, he'd just be taken over and the Fourteenth would do the dirty work before Allen could stop it.

His mind ran over and over, trying to figure out the signs for the seemingly incomprehensible knowledge that _Allen Walker carries the Fourteenth's curse. Why? How?_

" _I hope we can talk soon. Send a message back on here as soon as convenience allows_ ," the recording finished, and shut off with a – _bzzt_.-

Cross set down his glass, rubbing his hand across his suddenly-tired eyes. He'd give anything for the boring peace that had slipped far, far out of reach within the past five minutes. He didn't even care for the boy, he repeated to himself. But he also knew how damaging the Fourteenth's curse was, and how close Neah had been to death all those years ago— he swore again.

" _Hai un telefono_?" he asked the barkeep in halting Italian. The man gestured towards the door.

"Schivelli's across the street's got 'un," he said in rough English, around his cigarette. Cross swore, grabbing his coat and dumping some coins on the counter for the drink. He stalked out of the crowded bar, the tiny golem flittering after him like some messed up bird. With every step, the red-haired man foulmouthed every possible thing he could. "That darned kid, Bookman, the darn Noah family—" He yanked open the door to the new restaurant, spotted the decrepit phone across the far wall, and nearly knocked over three chairs on his way there.

He paused upon grabbing the dangling phone, the memory of the number rusty in its ten years of misuse. Neah's last words to him hadn't been encouraging of any future conversations. _None of the Campbells have even attempted to get ahold of me since that time._ However, this new revelation would certainly warrant a phone call. _No matter how much I don't want to be the one delivering this information._

He twisted his finger around the dial, then listened to the low tone. "Neah, pick up," he said, then swore again. Even though there were no other restaurant occupants close to him, a waiter gave him a dirty look. It was nearly midnight and a different time zone, but if his old friend had kept up the night-owl habits—

There was a clicking nose. " _Hello? Who the frick is calling at_ two _in the freaking morning?_ "

The voice was as familiar as it had been all those years ago. He was reminded painfully of the fact that Neah, Mana, and the entire Noah family never aged. _Stop acting like a freaking teenage girl with a grudge_ , he told himself. Whatever bitterness he had over the cutoff ten years ago needed to be set aside.

"Neah," he said, then stopped. _How am I supposed to explain this?_

" _Cross_?!" There was disbelief in the twin's tone. " _Why are you calling?"_ Another pause. _"I-I'm glad, I just—it's been—ten years."_

"Do you have any other relatives? Besides Mana?" Cross asked abruptly, then winced at his own lack of grace.

Static. " _Why are you asking me that?"_ Neah sounded confused, not defensive, which was a good sigh.

"Because," Cross breathed in deeply and said a prayer to all the gods that could've possibly existed before speaking, "the Fourteenth is back."

There was the loud sound of the receiver being dropped. He pulled the handset from his ear slightly until cracking noises had stopped. Neah's voice returned.

" _How_ ," he said, with the deadliest tone Cross had ever heard, " _the heck do you know that?"_

"The Black Order attempted to capture the host, and I was notified." _Sort of._

" _And you think it's_ real _?"_

"Stars, Neah, do you think I'd call you if I didn't?" he resisted the urge to swear.

"We stopped the curse. There's no way it could come back, not for decades." Even as he spoke, Cross could hear the doubt. "Besides, we—like you asked, none of the Noah have family close enough who would fit as the host. We'd have noticed." He knew that Neah's anger wasn't due to the call, it was because the Fourteenth had seriously screwed with the twin's brain and he didn't like to be reminded of it. _I'm sorry for bringing up something so painful,_ he apologized grudgingly in his mind.

"There's no one?" Cross pressed. "I need to know. The kid can control the Ark, Neah, there's no denying that _it's_ back."

With every word, Neah sounded more scandalized. " _That stupid curse possessed a kid?"_

"An old apprentice of mine."

" _I'm trying to think, I am, but there hasn't been anyone born related to the activte Noahs in years. Not since…my nephew, and… well, you know what happened to Allen. That's why Mana would kill me if he found out you called and I picked up—"_

Cross closed his eyes, the wold around him fading as he interrupted. "Who is Allen?"

" _Mana's son. The one who died."_ His voice was softer, perhaps with sadness. _"We don't need to bring that up here, Cross. Like, seriously, I don't want to talk about that particular crappy event of our lives ever again."_

Calculations were already running through Cross' head, and the world was coming into stunning clarity. Oh, stars. He opened and closed his mouth, knowing what was about to say would overthrow Neah's world.

" _Cross? You still there? I can hear you muttering swears under your breath._ "

"Neah." He closed his eyes, praying to whatever gods were there that he was wrong, that Allen wasn't—"the host, the one the Black Order is chasing—"

" _Yes, what about him? Do you know where he is?"_

"—his name is Allen."

The only sound was static.

"You said .. your nephew passed away ten years ago," Cross forced himself to continue. "When he was about.. four or five years old?" Even as he spoke more connections formed in his mind. _The familiar blue of that brat's eyes. The way his smile had been downright Neah's. His ridiculous patience when he should've gotten angry or lost it, the same way Mana had cleaned up after them an infinite number of times—_ "His name is Allen, and he's being hunted by the Order because the Fourteenth is taking him over."

" _S-stop_ ," Neah whispered through the phone, his voice breaking. _"Cross, what the actual_ crap _—I can't—I can't deal with this right now—"_

"Your nephew is alive." He almost said _I'm sorry_ , but it wasn't Neah he felt sorry for, it was for some white-haired idiot boy who had been brainwashed and lonely and had way too much hell in his life—Cross took in another breath, unsure of what to say.

It wasn't until the dial tone became audible that he realized Neah had hung up.

* * *

 **Next Chapter** : Tyki doesn't understand the whole "Fourteenth's curse" thing, or even his own senseless jealousy of the son who shares his birthday, but he's vowed with his siblings to protect the family _no matter what._ As the Noah search for Allen, Tyki has a distracting three-way collision with the Black Order, Walker, and a train. With a comatose exorcist and a crapload of emotional baggage in tow, he makes his way towards the only safe habor he knows, all the while questioning if things will ever be— _can_ ever be—the way they were before Allen Campbell's disappearance.


End file.
